


Amongst a Sea of Stars

by SalamanderInk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (MerJuly actually), (more like backstories), ADD/ADHD Tony Stark, Abyssal Depths, Accidental Plot, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Anal Plug, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Bioluminescence, Bondage, Breeding, Consentacles, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dryad Tony, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Giant Loki, Happy Ending, Hurt Tony Stark, Knotting, Kraken dicks are second longest in the animal kingdom, Lethality Kink, Light Dom/sub, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Lust, Lust at First Sight, Magic, Master of The Kelp Forest Tony, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating at First Sight, MerJellyfish Tony, MerKraken Loki, MerMay, Mermaid Society, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Play Fighting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strangers to Lovers, Stuffing, Tentacle Bondage, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Tony Stark Feels, Tony doesn’t know when to stop, Trust, Trust Kink, Unrealistic Depictions of Ocean Life, Unrealistic Sex, and they’re flexible, compared to the size of their bodies, kelp forest, loki is a Good Dom, size queen Tony, soft, soft dom Loki, you’re welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderInk/pseuds/SalamanderInk
Summary: For the first time, Loki finds the ocean cold and lonely. He never expected to find a mate, never thought he could find someone who could truly challenge him, but his magic told him to wait, to look deeper.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 48
Kudos: 363
Collections: FrostIron*, Tenebrific's Finished Fics





	Amongst a Sea of Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rabentochter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/gifts), [Wolfloner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfloner/gifts), [QuietCanadian9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietCanadian9/gifts).



> ALRIGHT so as mentioned in the tags, this was supposed to be a mermay fic, but. Like. Writing had to happen before that. And life. Yeah.  
> So, thanks a ton to Quiet and Tay who cheerread me through the process; and to Sesil who gave such wonderful comments and helped me wrangle tags and summary and the like. You guys are great.  
> This is PURE SELF INDULGENCE. Mind the tags, this is some unapologetic monster smut X3  
> Now, have fun, be safe, and all the like.

The Ocean was cold and lonely. Usually, it would not bother Loki overmuch. He had spent most of his life alone, after all, and his was not a kind to easily seek companionship. 

No, instead they struck fear in the heart of every merkind undersea, with their immense girth and their many long and powerful limbs. Not even mersharks, morcas or seawitches dared tangle with the likes of Loki. They all knew better. 

And usually Loki liked it just like that. 

He had no time nor patience for fools, nor the simpering of guppies. With eight arms longer than most mers, and two—even longer!—tentacles powerful enough to sink ships, there was nothing that could ever hope to challenge him, neither above nor below. Except perhaps for his sire and his reclusive siblings, but they mostly tended to keep to their own. 

No, Loki was a solitary creature, but sometimes, rarely but sometimes, he found himself _yearning._

Perhaps mating season was coming. Loki knew he could spend it alone, lay his offsprings on his own as Farbauti had his siblings before he found Laufey, but. 

Loki had been raised with a _bearer_. An ice-wielding mer that passed his powers down to Loki, a great and powerful being who had raised Loki from a tiny fry into a mer capable enough to fend for himself. 

He’d heard the story quite often, growing up. The way his bearer’s dorsal fins had fanned, the way he’d coiled his long sinuous body around his sire’s arms, the way their great might had shaken the ocean floors and broken through the greatest trench known to the deep, colluding and shattering its humongous cliffs, before starting a moon long chase across the oceans. 

They'd finished their pursuit under the great glaciers, where Laufey's serpentine tail gave him more agility in the reduced space, and his power over the cold had finally given him enough of an advantage to trap Farbauti in an ice prison. 

Loki was born from that mating, and Laufey and Farbauti still dwelled together in the deep. 

Loki wanted to find that, wanted something like the great battle Farbauti had waged, a grapple that lasted tides and only turned into a standstill as the greatest monster of the deep agreed that he’d finally found himself an equal. 

Of course, the story was probably quite romanticized. Though, knowing the two, there were perhaps not as many exaggerations as one could expect. Laufey was one of the great dragons, after all, one of the last of his kind, and a certainly gigantic one at that. And Farbauti was a great kraken, just like Loki was, though a much bigger one still. 

He’d had some more millenia to grow, after all. 

And Loki knew, as much as he’d wanted the type of companionship his parents had found in each other, it was quite unlikely that he would ever find it. 

After all, krakens never mated with one of their kind, and the only other type of creature that Loki had found to be nearly half as dangerous as he were manglers. 

He would sooner cut off one of his own arms than mate with one. Actually, he was rather uncertain than copulation with one such creature would not, in fact, conclude in maiming. 

One never knew with those barbed monstrosities. 

And so Loki found himself alone. Alone and _yearning._

He could feel the changes in his body already, the onset of his first mating season. He fought against it. 

He was still searching. 

He knew, of course, that to search for a mate was futile. But his magic kept shivering with excitement under his skin, tingling with eagerness, with excited curiosity, with _urgency._

There was something he had to find, some sort of treasure, and it was imperative that he find it quickly. 

But, of course, he didn’t know what, or even _why._

It was hardly the first time his magic had given him so vague a hunch, nor was it even the most insistent one. 

He’d learned quite early on to heed them, even the smallest ones. He’d saved his brother’s life by following through on one such gut-feelings. 

This one did not have the urgency of a life-or-death situation, but only barely so. 

And so, here Loki was, swimming over the ocean’s depths while ignoring the broiling need in his gut, the heaviness off the eggs in his belly and the loneliness twisting through his chest. Seeking. 

Magic tasted sweet in the water, thick, almost electric with the low thrum of banked rage and spiteful determination. Loki clicked his tongue. 

It was delicious. 

His gut twisted with need, pangs of lust curling up his eight arms as he squirmed uncomfortably. 

He hoped that the foreign magic he was teasing helped him find whatever it was he was looking for, because his time was coming soon. 

There was only so long Loki could put it off. 

He swam lower, his girth blocking out the last rays of sun that pierced down to the depths. There was a crevice there, this was one of the openings to a great trench, a chasm opening into the abyss. 

And Loki’s magic wanted him to get in there, to swim into those lightless and stale waters. 

And so he did. 

The cold was the first thing he noticed, along with the pressure. The water was harder to breathe, but for one of his might, and with his affinity to ice, it was hardly any issue. 

While Loki did not make a habit of going through the depths, it had more to do with its inhabitants than any true discomfort from his part. 

He _really_ had no desire to keep company with manglers. They were _creepy,_ and much too interested in him for comfort. He was never entirely sure what they wanted from him, what type of _hunger_ they sought to sate with him. And he had no intention of ever finding out. 

Hopefully, whatever it was that he was seeking wasn’t guarded by those fangfaced monstrosities. 

But the glowing lights down below didn’t give him much hope in the matter. Small glinting lights, like sky-stars fallen to the abyss, gently glowing and waving through the depths.

They were mesmerizingly beautiful, admittedly the only pretty thing to be found about manglers. 

And the one thing they used to attract their prey with. 

There were many such lights, so very many scattered all over the depths across a space that was even larger than he was, larger than his _sire and bearer_ curled together in their nests were. 

Loki had a moment of recoil, before stilling. He attached himself to a wall and waited, gills fluttering silently as his skin rippled into invisibility, taking the exact consistency of the rock ledge. Whatever it was that the manglers liked so very much must be quite precious, and he was far from certain to be able to take so many of them without serious injury to himself. 

No, it was time to get whatever information he could get and _plan,_ perhaps even reconvening later if no immediate opening showed themselves. 

The water was dense with magic, prickling pleasantly over his skin and making his belly clench with pangs of lust.

Whatever it was that had attracted so many manglers, Loki wanted it as well, especially if it was the source of such delicious magic. 

He wanted to own it, curl over it, bring it deep inside him to soothe the desperate ache inside him. 

What was he even thinking? 

But then, he could understand. He was deeply entrenched in magic, more than the rest of his family since most of it came from his bearer’s side, and it was incredibly rare that he came across any magical signature nearly as strong as his own, let alone one that did not immediately rankle. No, instead, he felt covetous of this mysterious treasure, and more than ever determined to snatch it from the vile grasp of manglers. Those never could truly appreciate finer things. 

He realized his mistake as he came closer, crawling slowly over the ledge until the lights came more clearly into his sight. These were neither mangler nor even regular angler-fishes. Instead, it seemed to be a _forest,_ alight with bioluminescence and growing even in such an unexpected and inhospitable place as these dismal depths. 

And it was from those long climbing stalks of algae that the flourishing forest that had come to be here, so unexpectedly. So _wondrously._

Now that Loki was no longer fearing the presence of the worst type of mer to cross the seas, he could appreciate the otherworldly beauty of the tableau presented to him, the small bubbles of glowing blue light swinging softly with the currents, gentle waves of luminescence sparkling through the depths. 

Loki remained, transfixed by a light that felt neither like the predatory glow of mangler bait, nor like the volcanic radiance of lava struggling against the press and cold of water. Instead, this felt… _light._ Peaceful, like letting oneself drift through currents without needing to worry about one’s safety, about any incoming predators. 

Once more, Loki felt covetousness in his heart, the desire to lay in that field, in that verdant forest, basking in its lushness and letting his mind be soothed by its glimmer, by the gentle pulse of magic permeating it. 

He knew now, why his magic had brought him here. This place called to him like nothing ever had before. 

It did not have the warm familiarity of his birth-nest, but he knew he could make it his own. 

He wanted his hatchlings to grow amongst those stalks, to play with those fireless-lights, and find peace and safety cradled in this soothing magic. 

And so he stalked closer, curious, fascinated, _greedy…_

And then he saw the eyes. 

*

Jellyfishes were a strange bunch. Jelly-mers, or Merllies as some called them, were even _stranger,_ if it was even possible. 

And Tony could tell, he was one of them. 

The first thing to know, when one had to look at merlly society was to understand that there were different _types_ of mers amongst those. Some were incredibly scatterbrained, some were incredibly single-minded, most often about food, and some seemed incredibly… detached, from reality. The kind of detached other mers got from sniffing some red algae-fumes, or eating shroom spores. 

And amongst _that_ strange collection of oddballs, Tony was an even weirder specimen. 

He would most realistically be counted as one of the scatterbrained ones, though, considering he was the only one using that scale, he wondered if it would be presumptuous to make a category of merlly just for himself. 

He would be considered a scatterbrained Merlly, if it was not for the strange moments when he found himself focusing way too much over some strange things, where his brain just could _not let go_ of whatever he was looking at. 

Sometimes, he found himself drifting, only noticing leagues away from where he’d first started, with strange devices in his hands that had been crafted in heated moments of what he liked to call genius. Some were magical, others used the strange craft of humans, a few were a strange blend of both, and some were neither, just simple crafts to occupy his hands while his mind drifted. 

He’d gotten lost a few times, before finding the cove. It was a closed in space, with barely any currents, and hardly any other mer passing by. Tony had thought he’d found himself a peaceful place to rest, to drift, to let his mind wander and play with his crafts. 

He had not counted on pirates. But then, who ever did? 

The cove was an inhospitable one, much too shallow for a ship, after all, and the island was deserted, the only thing that grew was undersea. 

And yet. 

Later, Tony would find out about the plot, about his uncle’s greed and desire for a power Tony had never wielded. Later he would wonder what it was about him that had driven someone he’d thought of as family to betray him so, and in such a gruesome manner too. Later, when Tony barely held on to his life, while sifting through his precious baubles, trying to find one with enough magical charge to _work,_ with enough power, enough _change-transformation-growth_ to save him. 

At the moment, though, Tony only knew pain and terror, the suffocation of being forcefully dragged up from undersea, the biting pain of nets digging into his too soft flesh. The raw, unfiltered sun blinding, _burning him._ It was death, it was agony, it was the worst horror tales one could ever tell children. He was writhing against something unnaturally smooth and hard, tangled into biting hair-thin knives, burning alive under the sun’s unforgiving rays… 

And then it was gone, and he was in a _box,_ something too small and too stale, barely large enough for him to curl in on himself protectively, his skin still smarting and aching and burning from thousand tiny cuts, raw from the burn, choked by the strange taste of the water around him, its stillness, its bitter chemical taste. 

But he was alive, he was no longer dying, he was no longer being assaulted by either of those deadly weapons. Instead, he was left mostly alone, in the dark, with a few adventurous or curious humans coming to gawk at him sometimes, but nothing that he even noticed, nothing that would ever be able to break his concentration. 

Because Tony had been confronted with a problem, with a _puzzle,_ and there was nothing that his mind liked to fixate on than something to _fix._

And he very much wanted to fix his captivity. 

In the end, it took much too long. Long enough for men with white coats to put their hands on him and cut him open, long enough for the corrupted water to make room inside his body, long enough for him to wonder if his victory was not one of spite alone, if he had not found freedom only to turn to foam in turn. If his peace would be that of his final rest. 

But then, it seemed that the ocean had given him its blessing for he had drifted straight to the home of a seawitch, one whose magic laid in healing and his craft drove him to help even the most desperate cases. 

His name was Yinsen. He had with him an entire family of hatchlings and a curious mate, who was both shy and terribly caring, and the both of them slowly nursed Tony back to health. 

But there were things even they with all their powers and magics could not do, wounds inflicted by the white-coated humans, and their metal fingers, _holes_ inside his being that needed mending, things that were missing that needed to be replaced. 

Yinsen guided him through the trek back to his cove, back to his treasures, and trinkets, and baubles, back to find amongst all his crafts one that could save him. 

And all the while, Tony shivered, and shrank from each shadow, cowered whenever the sun disappeared, flinched at any strong currents. The mere sight of the silvered sea-sky sent him into panic, because he knew now, how easily it could be breached, how illusory the safety of undersea truly was. 

But Yinsen was patient, and he held none of the scatterbrained Merlliness that drove Tony to distraction. Each time, he stirred him gently back to his task, each time he let his hands glow with a power that he had _mastered_ instead of simply letting it flow, drift through him as Jelly-mers were wont to do. 

And Tony found himself wanting that. Wanting that control, that mastery and deftness. 

Wanting that determination and patience. 

Jellies had no patience. 

But, watching Yinsen, Tony wondered if he could _learn._ Because, suddenly, he wanted to. 

And learning patience and the ability to follow-through started with finding himself whatever would be necessary for him to survive. 

It came to him almost instantly, from there on. 

There was something, a strange device that had no meaning nor aim, much like most of Tony’s usual treasures, but he had made this one from a human bauble, and twisted enough magic through it to make some algae seedlings grow, some long and rubbery, some short and plump, some soft and mossy. 

It was life, born from ashes. It was growth, and a new start. And, more importantly, it was _spite,_ and not letting whatever the humans had done to him cow him. 

Tony could feel the rightness of it down to his every tentacle, down to the very tip of his arms. 

Yinsen nodded at him then, solemn in his agreement, because there was something life-altering happening between them at that moment, a cornerpoint in Tony’s life. After all, he could have simply picked a clock, to reverse damage, or a crystal charged with his own magic. 

But instead, he found this, renewal and change, and endless resilience. 

Something that would grow, something that used human’s ingenuity and cruelty as a cradle for new beginnings. 

Fitting it inside him _hurt._ More than anything he’d felt before, more than the metalfingers. He’d felt a part of himself be forever altered, like he was alight from the inside by magic, like it was fire that ran through his jelly, instead of water. 

He felt _alive,_ like everything was too intense, the world was too loud, the seacurrents grating against his membranes. His tentacles curled on themselves as magic set him alight. 

But he was not _burning,_ he was not dying. 

This was nothing like the deck of the pirate ship. 

This was like… Like nothing he’d ever felt before. Like a volcano had taken residence in his stomach, and started pouring lava-like magic down his veins. 

He breathed in. The crystal did not feel like a weight inside him, nor was it painful any longer. 

Instead it felt as though he’d swallowed a tiny drop of sun, not enough that it burnt him, but enough that, should he need to again, _he_ would be able to burn _others._

Yinsen was there, ever patient, eyeing him carefully. His magic was slow, watchful, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice if the situation got critical. Evidently, it had not deemed the previous reaction overly dangerous. 

Weirdly, it made him feel better. Yinsen’s watchfulness, his calm, his steady progression through life, the way his way of thinking and considering the world was both very methodical and yet still creative, still quick-witted, it made Tony admire him. 

He wanted to be able to do that. To work through problems with enough patience to be able to consider multiple angles, to be able to learn something methodically. 

He wanted to learn to use his magic, to tame and make use of the power that he could feel thrumming through him even then. 

But he did not think he could do that as a jelly. 

But when he asked Yinsen, he only got a mysterious smile on his lips, and strange words of wisdom that felt like both a lie and a blessing. 

“You have everything it takes already.”

Tony did not quite believe it himself, but Yinsen had not lied to him before, did not mince words when Tony was dying, did not lead him astray when looking for solutions, did not pretend the change would not hurt. 

Why would he be lying this time? 

And so he spent his convalescence asking Yinsen about his magic, how he had learned, how it felt for him to use it. 

And he tried. 

He attempted meditation, and found himself barely able to stay still for a minute. He tried reciting the mantras, and mangled the words half the time. They slipped from his mind like eels from wide-nets. His body felt more jittery with each new attempt, each new failure. 

Tony had never been good at failing. 

In fact, he’d never truly struggled at doing anything before then. Things had seemed so very simple to him, answers and solutions coming so very naturally he’d never even had to truly _find_ them. They were just there. 

Everything used to be _easy._

And yet, now he was struggling to master even the simplest thing Yinsen had explained to him.

He wanted to _scream._ The distress boiled angrily through his magic, desire to run, to break something, to just simply give up or do anything but this frustrating mess of confusion. 

Sparks flew, electricity coursing through the room and igniting even through water, leaving blackened spots across the cave walls.

Yinsen came in, still patient, still watchfull. He was unharmed, of course, a shimmering barrier of magic keeping Tony’s outburst from reaching beyond his nook. 

Tony blinked, suddenly realizing how destructive he’d been, how dangerous this could have been had Yinsen not protected the rest of his den. Shame burned hot, erasing the last dregs of anger as he curled up on the moss-bed. 

He was infinitely grateful that no one had been hurt from this. He shivered, fear choking him as his imagination ran wild, expounding on the worst scenarios that could have happened, had Yinsen not been so very careful. 

He should leave, hide himself away and never come close to such vulnerable people again. He should just rip this mechanical heart from his chest and be done with it, should lock down his magic until he became harmless. 

But Yinsen only chuckled. 

“Why are you trying to learn the magic of a seawitch? You are a jelly-mer. You have the magic of a jelly-mer. Trying to learn the way I did will only bring you frustration.” 

Tony froze.

He had never thought of it that way. 

What he had done before, with his baubles and his puzzles, it had not been _learning,_ had it? 

It had felt so very easy, so very natural. It had been a game, and one that he was drifting through, that he could _lose himself to._ Perhaps that was what Yinsen had meant.

Perhaps he did not need to _struggle_ in order for his achievements to have worth. 

He still felt strangely insecure, much like he did when the water pressure and salinity was not-quite-right. 

But he had a lead, now. There were things that he knew that he would be able to try. 

He did not _have_ to bend, to force himself to be something he was not. He did not have to keep berating himself, to try to make his own mind fit in a mold that was just _not right._

From that point on, learning magic was much easier. 

It took time, however, and he never quite knew what it was he was supposed to do. Yinsen could hardly help him either, since his Way was just not adapted for merlly minds. But he still gave what guidance he could, and offered him some scraps and stones to craft with, things for his hands to work on while he tried to tease his magic into shape. Or perhaps it was more akin to _taming?_

Meanwhile, his body was slowly recovering from his ordeal. He could now move freely, he no longer felt like he’d been torn apart, no longer felt as though his self could just dissolve into the sea and leave him an empty husk. 

The thin tentacles around his bell had regrown, those that had needed to at least. 

The burns, of course, were long gone, and Jelly-skin did not scar. 

But his mind was another matter. 

There was still fear in his heart, a strange sort of guilt and anxiousness that simply never left, no matter what he did. 

Obviously, the slow pace of his learning did not help, nor had his outbursts. 

He had learned to control them of course. He could not risk a hatchling coming across the lightning that raced across his body at those moments. But there were too many things to control, too many to pay attention to, to be careful of. He felt suffocated. 

He wanted to go home, to drift again, to mingle with the rest of his bloom. He had not seen them since his abduction. Were they worried? Had they even noticed his absence or had they been too engrossed in their thing to even notice? 

Tony would not mind either way, but he still missed them. 

Magic was becoming easier. Its threads tangled through his fingers and followed his will instead of just randomly interacting with his projects. 

It was slow going, and still frustrating, but the show of progress renewed Tony’s determination and finally let him believe that this endeavor was not _impossible,_ not a waste of time just yet. 

By the time Yinsen pronounced him well enough to go back to his bloom, he had become proficient enough to handle his powers comfortably. He had started to find a good flow with it, though there were moons easier than others. 

Controlling the magic instead of simply letting it do as it willed was not something that had come naturally, but he was rather proud of having achieved it. Or at least being in the right currents to reach the goal he had chosen for himself. 

Going back to the open sea felt incredible. Not that he had not appreciated Yinsen’s hospitality, but merllies were not cave creatures. The gentle flow of water around him, the swift currents tangling through his tentacles, it meant _freedom,_ infinite possibilities open to him, so many places to drift through, so many new sights. 

The pulsing water around him felt _alive._

Finding his bloom again had not been overly complicated. They did not tend to move overmuch, simply swimming back against the surface currents and circling through the gyre. They had never deviated from the path for as long as Tony had been alive, and they would not start because one of their members had disappeared. It had never stopped them before, after all. 

That is, if they had even noticed. 

No, finding them had been easy. 

But reintegrating with them proved to be more difficult. Unforeseen complications. Tony should have expected as much. It would have been too easy. 

No, Tony did not feel bitter about it. 

He certainly had not felt hurt at all, when they had only taken a single glance at him before screaming, howling from the top of their lungs _“MANGLER!”_

Because, indeed, the magic that he had absorbed to survive _glowed,_ it shone through his limbs like so many colored filaments, drops of light that he’d taken comfort from when recovering in Yinsen’s cave. His bell now shone with golden rays, each tentacle-tip ending with a drop of light, his feeding arms flowing elegantly, bright with gentle warmth. 

And, of course, his creation, the one he’d ended up calling the Ark, was almost blinding with its radiance. 

Like a miniature star having elected to reside in his chest. 

He’d felt proud of his transformation, when he’d first seen it. It was him having grown close enough to the sun to almost die, and deciding that he would swallow it instead. That, in the end, he would prevail over it, would take every hurdle thrown at him and make it a strength. 

He had never expected _that_ hurdle. 

Never expected that he would have no home to return to, that his change would be too much for those who he’d used to live with. Those who had grown alongside him. 

That even after having tracked them down, even after having _proved_ that he was who he claimed he was, that he was the same mer he’d always been, it wouldn’t be enough. 

_He was too different, he did not belong anymore, he was just not right, just not a normal merlly anymore._

_His light would attract predators, and was he not a predator himself now?_

_The lights belonged to the creatures of the deep, not to surface jellies._

_How could he claim to be the same mer, he was absolutely different._

_He did not look the same, did not feel the same, did not belong._

_He was not one of theirs, and even if he had been previously, it was no longer their problem._

Tony was not hurt, of course not. Nor hurt nor bitter, nor lost, nor even depressed. 

His bell fluttered around his hips as he watched them go, his cap hiding his face and the traitorous way his face scrunched with distress. 

Somehow, there was something even worse than being caught and dragged abovesea. 

Tony never wanted to be left behind again. 

In the end, he took their advice and went down to the depths. He had thought briefly to go back to Yinsen, to make his home with the kind seawitch, but he knew he could not impose himself any longer. 

He had to make his own path, and even if he knew he would always be welcome in their cave, he was not meant to live in an enclosed space. He knew that, now that he’d felt the relief of the open seas flowing through his limbs after an enforced confinement, regardless of how much more comfortable and pleasant it had been, compared to… previous experiences, he would never be able to return to living in those shielded rooms. 

Not for any amount of time, anyway.

He would still make sure to come visit them, to see the small fries grow into competent seawitches of their own, to speak of magic with Yinsen and compare their approaches to the craft, perhaps just to speak with friendly faces. 

Because he knew, from that moment where his bloom fled from him in fright, his life would be a lonely one. 

He followed the jellies’ advice, in the end. He went deep, and then deeper, slowly sinking down into the abysses. His light never wavered, tentacles fanning around him in dizzying displays of magic and elegance. Tony loved it. He could never bring himself to regret his choice, the inner fire that broiled through him, even as deep and as cold as these waters were. 

None of it bothered Tony, and other mers steered well clear of him, probably also thinking themselves in company of a mangler. 

At this point, Tony no longer minded. The association made him safer than otherwise, and as long as the ruse held, no mer would dare tangle with him. 

He only had to prepare for afterwards, and make himself a force to be reckoned with of his own right. 

He had no idea how he would go about that. His magic was powerful, yet erratic, and a few bolts of lightning would hardly suffice against a determined predator. 

He went deeper still, the pressure making him feel smaller, squishing him from all sides.

He did not mind. 

Jellies of all kinds had always been adaptable, and Merllies even moreso. 

Smaller did not mean any less powerful, after all, and even if the water was cold and dense, it was still clean, it was still _alive_ with deep currents. 

Size hardly equalled might, after all, and his smallest merlly friends were certainly the deadliest ones. He rarely saw them. They were much smaller after all, and lived quite close to human settlements, in waters that were rather inhospitable to him. 

He would never be able to live this close to the surface again. 

But he would visit them, once he had made his path and settled himself some. Once he had something to be proud of to show them. 

They, at least, would not be scared of his new glow. 

When Tony finally touched the bottom of the abyss, he found it bare. A blend of volcanic dust and sand, and the sediments that had accumulated there. 

It was soft, and Tony was tired. He curled in on himself, let sleep overtake him. 

Merllies rarely slept. This was not something they truly _needed_ to do, but their mer-half made it nonetheless possible. 

There had been too much happening, too much that tried his mind and wrenched at his feelings. He needed time, needed _rest._

_And so he slept._

Then he woke, then slept again. 

His mood swirled down, like those small white flakes falling around him. 

His light felt dull, barely able to pierce through the fog of darkness any longer. 

Moons and tides blended together in the dark, currents passing over him without inciting any reaction. 

And then, he noticed _something_ that sparked his curiosity awake once more.

On the frills of his feeding arms, where their long ribbons had curled together, the small mossy algae still thrived, despite the darkness and the cold. 

It had started living in symbiosis with him ever since he had fused with the Ark, slowly growing along his long curling arms. His tentacles were too thin and mobile to provide good support, apparently, and his bell was the part most exposed to the currents, so it made sense. 

Tony supposed that it was because of the Ark, or rather the fact that at its heart, tiny algae of many shapes were blooming. 

And his magic… 

His magic had sustained this small life. 

Without him even knowing, or caring, it had managed to make it grow, make it bloom over him. 

It was beautiful. 

It was _hope._

From then, the darkness no longer reached his mind, the cold no longer seeped into his limbs. He shone brighter than ever, brighter than stars and sea-lights. There might no longer be any light coming from the silver surface of the sea, the water might be cold and inhospitable, but the soil was rich, and Tony had a light of his own, _had magic_ of his own, and he would make this place grow, thrim with life and abundance. 

No matter how inhospitable it had seemed at first, there was still so much he could do. 

From there on out, he stopped wallowing, stopped _moping,_ and put everything into his new project. 

He had no idea what it would end up looking like, what it would become, but he would do his best. 

Feeding magic to the soil, carefully seeking through the sediments the tiny seeds that had been washed away by the currents and the landslides, he fed it with light, and warmth, and magic, until it shivered in his grasp and sprouted. 

Then grew. 

His first plant was a small thing. But it did not grow attached to his body. It carried its own small light, tiny bubbles of air growing along its stalk and lifting it up. 

Tony was so very proud. 

So he made a second one. And then a third. 

In the end, Tony never truly lost count of each of those tiny, and then not-so-tiny algaes he’d given life to. But the stalks had grown so high, their holdfast digging so deep, that he could easily swim through them without ever seeing the darkness of the upper sea. 

And they were now so many that there was no longer the sensation of many singular plants. Intead, he felt his magic be connected to a great entity, an entire forest’s worth of life that grew from his magic, from his care and attention. 

It had grown self-sufficient under his careful tending, each sprout alight with its own glow and reaching high, floating through the water with the buoyancy of air bubbles. 

And with each of those tiny bubbles of light along their stalks and under their fronds, or cradled amongst their moss or through their coralline surface, at the heart of anemones and the leaves of other seaweeds, it had become almost as bright and welcoming as those that reached up above.

It answered to him, protected him, cradled him in their great embrace. 

He hadn’t even noticed it grow so colossal, hadn’t noticed how far he’d started to need to go before reaching the edge of his forest. His home. 

There was pride in his heart, for his creation that had become a being of his own right, for his accomplishment, for the growth of his magic that seemed to become more powerful with each new spirit, and his control that had become fine enough to note the distress of a single marimo moss-ball amongst the entirety of his forest. 

There was no doubt in Tony’s mind that he was now much more dangerous than any mangler around. No longer was he an easy prey, a small mer separated from his school. 

He was safe. 

He did not need a lure to hunt either, not when he lived in symbiosis with his forest, not when the surrounding growth thrived so much, not when it’s bounty attracted to it an entire ecosystem of new creatures, small shrimps and fishes, stars and corals and shells, and so many other different lifeforms that Tony could sometimes think himself in one of the forests he’d grown into, in those much kinder waters. 

He was proud, he was at peace, and he was painfully _lonely._

Of course there was the low thrum of his magic running through him and through the many leaves and steals of his domain, the echoes of their gentle lights twinkling around him, and always so many things to do, so many that needed tending to. So many things to explore. Small beings that had grown in those stalks, all that _life_ thriving around him. All that magic, vibrant and powerful. 

And yet, regardless of how much his forest tried to take care of him, of how it did its best to distract him, Tony was still a social creature, a mer that was supposed to live amongst a bloom, to talk, to laugh, to have _other mer around._

And perhaps he would not go look for other jellies any longer. But perhaps, just _perhaps_ it would be nice to have some company. 

*

In the time that he’d settled down into his small corner of the ocean, there had been many a creature to try their luck against him. Some were mer, some weren’t, some had come looking for a snack, and others had felt greed over the lushness and abundance found in his territory. The latter had become more and more common as the years went on, as his grove kept expanding, as it attracted more and more life, created more and more light, until he was the sole guardian of the most thriving section of the deep-under. 

Some creatures, of course, found themselves quite bothered by Tony’s success. Too much light, too many preys in the hands of a single mer. Greed. Tony had not known it amongst merllies, but he could recognize it all the same. There was that very same glint in the human’s eyes when they had caught him. 

But Tony had grown much stronger since, he was no longer a single jelly with only his tentacles to protect him. He had become so untouchable, even manglers thought twice before trying to challenge him. Especially since he'd taken down their leader. 

He didn’t appreciate people telling him that his Ark was alike to a mangler’s lure. 

Not that it really was something he was worried about any longer. He rather thought himself much closer to a sea-dragon these days, what with the way he’d taken to cover himself in his plants, moving along those high stalks with slow, languid movements. 

Still, some wounds were too deep to forget. 

Just as Tony never forgot that every mer that had come to him so far had been a challenger.

Which made the gargantuan creature lurking on the cliff’s edge all the more worrisome. 

Tony could take them. Probably. For all that the shadow he could see was enormous, large enough to feel as though the cliff _itself_ was moving instead of a single being, for all that Tony could feel its magic buzz against his own, and its not inconsiderable power flare against his probing touch, Tony himself had become much stronger and there was the entire might of his forest behind him. 

But how much would such a victory cost was another question. 

As a general rule, Tony did not enjoy confrontation. He might be something of a predator but certainly not a hunter, and even less a _fighter._

And yet, he would not let himself be intimidated. By anyone, no matter how imposing their size. He would not be bullied nor threatened, not by anyone. Not anymore. 

So, when the mer lurking on the cliffs crawled even closer, their magic taking on a covetous edge, Tony rather decided that, whoever they were, they had overstayed their welcome. 

He did not have the patience to deal with yet another challenger. 

If diplomacy would not work, then… 

What else could he do? His tenants would feast this year. 

But then, the intruder proved different. Not as brash, not as greedy. 

Their magic tasted of desire, a desire to own, to conquer, and yet there was none of the bloodthirstiness he was used to, none of the cruelty, ruthlessness and disregard for the beauty of his creation. No, Tony could taste the awe, the lingering respect and reverence for the small wonder Tony had created. 

It made him reconsider his approach. 

Perhaps the mer could be reasoned with. Perhaps he would just leave him alone without Tony needing to make a show of force. 

One could hope. 

The other mer was indeed massive, though his camouflage was sure impressive enough to hide most of it. It took him a moment to find the mer’s face, with as well it blended into the rocky surface. But then, Tony refused to confront a mer any other way. 

Tony knew the image he must present, so tiny before him, with so many delicate looking fins and pretty glowing filaments, with his two transparent bells, one half covering his face almost demurely, so very soft looking. Delicate and flowering algae growing from his frilly arms, and a gentle golden glow drawing magical arrays through his bells, coursing over his skin and shining from his tentacles. And in the center of his mer-chest, the glowing orb that so many called a _lure,_ a concentrated bubble of pure magic and life that blazed like a small star inside him. 

A frail creature imitating a mangler, is what they’d all thought. 

Another one of those with the head not-quite-there, because that was usually what they thought of jellies, one of those weirdos with no brains who decided to fancy themselves into a ‘real’ predator. 

Tony smirked bitterly, ready for the jeers, for the scorn. 

It did not come. 

Instead, the other mer revealed himself in turn, skin rippling with the mimic ability that was so infamous for cephalopods. 

Tony would need to beware of prehensile limbs then. One did not live long enough to grow so humongous without having deadly reflexes to match. 

Not that Tony’s tentacles were anything but whip-quick. But their sting would not suffice to incapacitate such a huge being, not nearly as much as a single hit from this one would. 

And Tony had only ever heard of _one_ type of cephalopods that were that gigantic. 

Krakens had _clubs_ at the end of their tentacles. Tony had seen the scars on the great whales. He had no intention of seeing how those would affect him. He may not have bones to break but he was far from indestructible. 

On the other hand, the mer-kraken was surprisingly gorgeous. His features fine and well defined, a straight nose and high cheek-bones, hair as dark as the void that he let float around him, haloing his pale flesh. Tony appreciated that. It was as close to a sign of non-aggression as one could get undersea, between mers of different kinds. A fighting stance would usually start with hair flattened back, or sometimes even fused into scales. 

Obviously, the kraken wished to speak first, and was courteous about it. 

Slowly, Tony let his own stance show his willingness for non-agression, though it was perhaps harder for non-jellies to note the way his tentacles settled down into the flow, the way they simply trailed town under the abyss, so very placid even as tiny flecks of light, moss and magic shone through them like air-drops on kelp leaves. 

His bell-hat lifted, growing transparent as he looked the intruder in the eye. Green, like each of those plants he’d grown, the color of those who ate sunlight. And incredibly clear, and _sharp,_ enticingly so.

He was wearing a warm-skin, one more suited to the upper layers of the ocean, but also one more personable than the abyss-creature he was capable of being. 

Once more Tony wondered at that. Courtesy did not often suit conquerors. Neither would one expect a being so powerful and vast to use diplomacy as a first response. 

So Tony stood down, and offered the other mer one chance. Just one. 

“What brings a mer like you to a place like this?” 

And if his tone got the tiniest bit flirty, well, Tony never said he would make it easy on him. 

Tony really had not expected to find him so handsome. 

The kraken smiled, charming, though his eyes kept wandering, over Tony himself, his trailing tentacles and the tiny drops of light amongst them, the bioluminescent marks over his skin, his face, his Ark. They lingered on the latter, then glanced back to the forest behind them a couple times before he finally answered. 

“Curiosity.”

His magic was probing, and indeed Tony could feel its interest, its eagerness and playful joy at mingling with his own. Somehow, it felt familiar, as though it had already brushed over him, had already _met_ him before. It was quite possible. This power was as massive as the kraken was, and it could very well have noticed him from the far-lands where he usually preferred to rest. At such distance, it wouldn’t have registered to Tony as anything greater than the usual magics he mingled with. Still, it felt _familiar,_ as though it thought him an old friend, or a good playmate. 

Tony was fairly baffled, and so was the kraken, apparently. Especially when the tiny flecks of mage-light came to greet him back, rolling over the kraken’s skin like thousands of tiny drops of air, glowing and golden instead of the usual silvery dull shine. 

Because, apparently, Tony’s magic _liked_ the intruder. 

Regardless, it was hardly reason enough to let down his guard. 

“Curiosity, then? What, did you just see the lights and decided to come look for a mangler’s nest?”

Because Tony was no idiot. As much as he might dislike it, he knew what light was associated with, down below. And while distasteful, it was nonetheless rather convenient. It made most curious mers back off when they realized how much concentrated light there was in that place. 

And really, Tony liked the lights. He was a creature used to seeing the silvery ripples of the surface above him, used to feeling the sun’s warmth filter through the water and seep into his skin. 

Of course, since the humans… the surface was more of a threat than the reassuring glow of home he used to associate it with. 

Still. A world without light was depressing. And he lived far enough away from people to no longer need to care about their opinions. 

Regardless, people did not seek his forest. At least not experienced mers. 

And while this one could certainly weather ‘curiosity’ against a couple manglers, he was old enough to know better than to approach such a large source of light within the abyss. 

But the kraken only smirked, eyes narrowing mischievously. 

“Your eyes are much better than theirs. And I see nothing even remotely close to manglers around here.”

 _Liar._ “Flatterer.”

The other blithely ignored the comment. 

“This is your magic, then? That grew this forest. That created all of this?” 

The kraken looked contemplative, but not disbelieving. Nor scornful. 

Tony smiled, tentacles fluttering. He actually _did_ feel flattered this time. It was not often that his work was recognized, his efforts acknowledged. And while there was no actual praise said, he could recognize the wonder and appreciation in the other’s voice. 

And there sure _should_ be. His forest was a true wonder and deserved all the praise. 

But then, the kraken’s gaze slid away from the cove and back to Tony, dark and intense as it swept over him once more, lingering on his Ark uncomfortably long before boring into Tony’s eyes. 

Tony tensed. Nothing good ever came from mers looking at his reactor. 

He did not want to hear it be called a _lure_ again. 

But the mer surprised him. His gaze remained steady and… kind. Appreciative. 

“And you built this little wonder too, didn’t you?”

Tony’s fingers curled nervously. He felt frozen before this mer’s judgement, entirely too vulnerable. He hated it. 

Normally, he would already be smiling back sharply, ready with a clever retort, or a stinger full of poison for the most rude or persistent mers. But he couldn’t seem to muster anything before the kraken’s honest query, no word, no smile, no _defense._

Perhaps because there was no aggressivity to respond to, no barb to defend against. 

He felt like he was sliding down an updraft, confused and hesitant as the world around him swirled in a way that blurred directions. 

“A wonder, you say?”

Perhaps, if he exposed the fraud, he would find the will to fight back, to strike down this presumptuous mer, to make him pay for the slight, for daring to make him hope for something better, if only for the time it took a silverfish to dart by. 

But then…

“Indeed. It is magic, is it not? And yet it feels like more, like life and curiosity, and the wonders of creation.”

And the kraken came forward, inching closer and leaning into Tony’s space, hand half raising with an irrepressible desire to touch. 

Tony had a moment to be amused of the fact that the one person not to consider the Ark to be a lure was the one most fascinated with it, before flinching back, two bell-pumps away from the audacious mer. 

What on the Ocean was the other _doing?_

The kraken looked _amused,_ of all things, his smile slowly turning hungry, but in a way Tony could not really recognize. It seemed _playful._

Something deep inside his belly thrilled at that, flickering embers of desire glowing through his body. His tentacles shivered. 

He had never felt that way before. 

His eyes narrowed, ticked off at the smugness in the kraken’s smirk and at his sheer _impudence._ Like hell would he let himself be charmed by a pretty face and a handful of pleasant words. He was no swooning maiden, after all, regardless of what experience he did have in the seduction department. 

After all, while mers of all kinds were capable of coupling, jelly _fishes_ were not, which meant that jelly _mers_ rarely did so either. And, considering how isolated he’d been since he’d migrated down below, there had hardly been any mer at all that could be considered a potential partner. 

But inexperience did not make one an _idiot,_ and he could see when someone wanted something from him. 

“How rude. You could tell me your name, first before you start making a pass at me.”

That… had not been what Tony was planning on saying. But he supposed it would have to do. At least he was not playing along or simpering. 

His magic certainly was not helping his self control, clinging to the stranger as it was. 

The other’s smirk turned sharp as he slunk closer, sensually lowering his lashes as he glided into Tony’s space. 

“But of course. Where are my manners? I am Loki, of the Jotunheim reaches. It is a… _delight_ to meet you, Master of the Forest. Why, I have never met anyone quite so intriguing as you, in all my years roaming the Ocean. I do hope you will agree to let us become more _closely_ acquainted.”

The kraken’s voice— _Loki’s—_ was low and sultry, deliciously dark and full of promises. 

Tony shivered once more, tentacles curling around him as he felt a throb deep in his belly. 

_Loki._

He sure knew how to be flattering, and to weave words into a pretty snare that would easily wrap pretty fishtailed around his fingers. He clearly thought high enough of himself, with that smug smirk of his and predatory gaze. An arrogant and presumptuous mer for sure, but usually krakens had the skill and power to back up those claims. 

And yet, somehow, as much as Tony wanted to play along with the delicious pictures Loki was alluding to, as much as he would have loved to explore, and _acquaint himself better,_ as he’d so elegantly put it, there was an even greater part of him that was gleefully saying _‘no.’_

Already his magic was coiling around him, expectant and playful, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. 

All the better because he would certainly need the element of surprise if he wanted to subdue the kraken. _Loki._ Farbauti’s youngest. 

Word reached far, undersea, especially when it came to the most powerful and deadly creatures of the deep. Of course there was not much known about them, besides tales of their deeds and abilities, most likely blown out of proportions and completely distorted but unreliable gossip-mongers. 

But what reached through was certainly enough to make him understandably cautious. 

Because, of all three sons of the Great Kraken, Loki was supposed to be the cleverest. And while smaller than his elder brothers, he was also quick, and well-gifted with magic. 

The last one, Tony had known already. The power was already cloying and heady around them, spreading thickly through the water and encircling him almost covertly, spreading thickly over the area of his forest. As yet, it was not aggressive, even as it shaped itself into a trap, an alluring netting that only threatened delicious and unnamed pleasures. 

It flowed around him, inviting and sultry, and Tony had never tasted anything more enticing. 

But he would not forget that, before anything else, it was still a _snare,_ for all that he no longer believed Loki to have designs on his life. How presumptuous. 

He would not go down without a fight, nor would he let himself be caught so easily. 

Tony smirked. Certainly if the other wanted him, he would have to prove himself first. And Tony’s might was not inconsiderable. 

He was no guppy, after all. He would not make it _that_ easy for the other.

Of course, he knew what it meant, for his magic to react thusly. He had of course had partners in the past, small trysts for pleasure’s sake, meetings of like-minds and eager flesh. 

But, to start a _chase,_ to test a potential partner’s mettle, it meant something else. 

Tony’s magic hummed as his forest started waking from its slumber, long kelp stalks shuffling eagerly, slowly shaking themselves from their previous dormancy.

It meant choosing a mate, it meant something that would last, sometimes for the span of a whale migration, sometimes for the mer’s entire life, depending on their cultures and species. 

Tony was much too possessive for short term commitments, however. And the covetous gleam in Loki’s smile spoke of much the same. 

Loki’s eyes glinted with anticipation and desire, his eight lower arms uncoiling from the stone wall and finally revealing themselves to Tony’s view. They were already massive, each of them already longer than Tony’s body just on their own. Tony’s eyes darted to the sides, looking for the two tentacles. They would be even longer, he knew, and very, very fast. 

And while neither of them would be going for the kill, he had no intention of getting acquainted with them during their battle. 

Better be more careful than not. It would not do for their bout to be cut short, now, would it? 

Tony’s bell inflated in preparation, sharp smile showing through while the rest of his face remained hidden under his crown-bell, water accumulating inside him for best propulsion. 

He would have fun with this. 

Jellies might not be the fastest mers in the sea, but Tony was _clever,_ and hopefully that would make the difference. And he had the element of surprise going for him as well. 

Loki lunged forward, the move betrayed by a minute tensing of his tentacles, and yet still as quick as the snapping jaws of a goblin shark.

But Tony was ready, and with a single bellow of his bell, he sprang safely out of reach. _Up._

Of course, he did. Loki would have of course expected him to go _down._ Any other creature would have gone down, toward safety, to hide within the talk stalks of his home and prolong the chase. 

But Tony knew the worth of a good feint, and indeed it paid off. Loki was overbalanced, carried by his momentum further down, further away from the path Tony was swishing through. 

He heard a laugh behind him, something exhilarated and wild, _hungry,_ and Tony felt a similar one itching at his throat, waiting to be released. 

He would not. Not yet, not until he’d found a way to have the upper hand, until he could let down his concentration for even a fraction of second, until he could stop worrying about exposing his position. 

It was already advertised enough with his persistent shine, the way his tentacles trained behind him as though pointing the way back to him. 

It mattered little, in the end. 

Tony aimed to go through Loki’s blind spots and slide down the rock cliff in order to take cover, using the wall as a means to dissuade the kraken from using his full speed, and perhaps even restrict his movements. 

It was a long shot, however. Cephalopods were notoriously adaptable, and most quite enjoyed narrow spaces. They could squeeze through the narrowest gaps, and they were always notoriously _fast._

Something came at him from the side. An array of long and graceful limbs, curling and sweeping toward him at full speed. Tony twisted, squishing himself, attempting to lunge to the side and dodge out of their way but they had encircled him.

Of course they had. That kraken was ridiculously big.

He would need to change tactics.

He twirled, letting his tentacles fan around him and then snap around the kraken’s arm. 

Stinging darts filled with poison sunk through the vulnerable flesh, and Tony smirked as the attacking limbs jerked away just as fast. 

He darted through the opening they’d left, releasing Loki’s arms before the poison could do more than just sting. 

They were only _play_ fighting, after all. 

But in the meantime, Loki had the chance to double back and face him once more. He did not appear to be angry at the sting, nor dissuaded. If anything, his eyes glowed even darker with desire, smile hungry, _knowing._

Of course, Tony was just as _entertained._

The adrenaline rush was rather pleasant after all. But, it would not do for the kraken to prove himself boring, after all this. 

The water shimmered around them, bubbling with a greenish current, insidious and poisonous. Tony eyed it warily, while subreciptly propelling himself closer to his territory. 

His kelp were tall, taller even than he’d ever believed possible, reaching up to more than thirty times his height already, even while counting the longest of his tentacles. They seemed deceptively tame, and from above, one could hardly guess just how _deep_ the forest could go. But Tony knew. Knew the way the stalks curled and half laid on the seafloor, hiding just how much higher they could reach. 

And he was counting on just that. 

His eyes glowed briefly, the forest buzzing in the back of his mind as it stirred, it’s great mass shivering in anticipation, unfurling their great length…

An impact from the side threw him against the cliff, dazing him. Those clubbed tentacles, much too long to keep track of, much too strong to guard against. 

Tony had a split second to admire the sheer restraint it took the other mer not to splatter him against the cliff wall with that hit when his strength was so great, before the world went white with pain. 

The connection had broken, the recoil driving a pounding ache through his temples for the precious few seconds it took for Loki’s magic to sneak around his limbs and restrain him. 

It coiled around his tentacles, almost like a thick paste that seemed to keep him from being able to summon his poison, making his moves sluggish, even as Loki propelled himself faster, his siphon churning the water around them. 

Tony’s eyes narrowed. 

He would not be defeated so easily. 

He squirmed in the green cocoon, straining, concentrating. His magic broiled inside of him, as white-hot and eager as ever, if not even moreso. 

It liked Loki’s magic, liked the chase, the _game,_ and it absolutely _refused_ to go down so easily. 

Great arcs of lightning burst from him, electrifying the water and tearing through Loki’s spell-binding as though it was no stronger than a shrimp shell.

The kraken jerked back, foiled once more, and Tony smirked smugly before throwing himself down, swishing as fast as he could before Loki recovered from his shock.

And then the world went dark. 

It took a moment for Tony to understand what had happened. He’d become used to the constant illumination, the neverending light coming from everywhere around him—including himself—that the sudden blindness, the sudden _darkness_ was more jarring than it should have otherwise been. 

It was absolute, it was never ending, it was like being back in that dank and stale tank on the human ship. 

It was _suffocating._

And then the water swished; the bellowing currents of the kraken’s massive girth twisting around him. 

The water was alive, tiny creatures calling out to each other under him, his forest buzzing worriedly against his mind, the cold, comfortably stinging against the volcanic heat of his magic. All of this made this darkness much different from the cage. 

But he was getting distracted again. 

He might no longer be able to see, but he still _shone,_ and his Ark was still a beacon to every creature around him, not only with its light but through his magic also. He’d never felt the need to hide it, after all, never found the skill interesting enough to worry about, never saw the _point._

And Loki would most certainly not be blind to either of those, especially considering that he’d used the faintest traces of Tony’s magic to track him down all the way through the oceans, even without knowing what it was, _who_ he was looking for. 

Finding him through the cloud would only be too easy. 

And Tony’s tentacles were still coated in this strange magic glue that negated his stingers. The lightning would not work a second time, not now that Loki knew to expect it. No, he needed something else, needed to _take cover._

Thankfully, even blind, he could still orient himself, still feel the reassuring presence of his forest, each kelp stalk a bright note calling to him, guiding him unerringly closer to safety. 

And with each below down, he could see the light coming through more and more, feel the water clear from the strange taste of sweet ink as he left the dark cloud behind. 

Of course Loki had been waiting in ambush on the other side, his long arms curling in the water as they reached for him but Tony had no intention of being caught. Not again. 

With a great boost of speed and a little help from magic, Tony wove through the flailing arms, diving between them, grazing the suckers and yet somehow managing to avoid capture long enough to almost reach the top of his stalks. 

And then he felt Loki’s hand close around one of his filament-tentacles. Tony swirled back, watching Loki’s smirking face as he twisted his hand around Tony’s wayward limb, tangling it with his fingers. 

Tony’s eyes widened in outrage. With his tentacles coated with Loki’s magic they were basically harmless. He knew that. And yet, the sheer gall to handle them like that with his _bare hands,_ the most sensitive part of any mer… 

It was both admirable and infuriating. 

He bristled, teeth gritting as he whipped his other tentacles at Loki’s face, hoping that the reflexive need to protect his vulnerable eyes would make him drop his hold and let Tony flee. 

Nothing had been said against _playing dirty,_ after all.

But Loki must have realised how Tony already was in the open seas, and have guessed how truly impossible it would be to find him within his own territory. 

His other hand came up, protecting himself while also swiping more tentacles yet in his grasp, twisting his hands through them until it was impossible to just pull himself out of his grasp. 

Clever. If a bit nearsighted. 

Because, while putting himself in a position to ambush Tony, Loki had swum right into his trap. With a few great bellows of his bell, Tony pretended to try detangling himself from Loki’s grasp, struggling and jerking against Loki’s pulls. 

And slowly, imperceptibly, and yet ineluctably, he was tracting the kraken down, closer to his forest, his home, his _domain._

Sanctuary might be a haven to most of the creatures it welcomed in, however it was also the greatest trap in the Ocean, and it was entirely in Tony’s command. 

And so, one giant stalk after the other, great vegetal arms reached up and caught the kraken in their implacable grap, curling around each arm, coiling and twining around the tentacles and pulling him down into its depths. 

Loki laughed, even as the forest swallowed him up, even as he twisted and fought against the inescapable snare he had gotten caught into. 

He laughed and tangled himself with Tony, curling over him until they found themselves face to face, even if it meant giving way for more of those kelp stalks restraining him, even if it meant losing even more leeway. 

And yet, by following the weave of the kelp, by trying to tangle himself further instead of resisting capture, he instead found more limbs freed up, more room to move, even while lost within a sea of starlights. 

Tangling those newly freed arms around Tony, he pressed himself even closer. He sneaked under Tony’s crown-bell, hovering just over Tony’s face, lips almost touching as they breathed each other’s water, hair fanning out in a curtain around them. 

This was the first time they truly looked each other in the eye, without Tony’s crown-bell obscuring him. 

Tony couldn’t help but notice once more just how much _bigger_ the kraken was, how much his frame was just gigantic enough to dwarf him, even without taking the prehensile arms into account, or the even longer tentacles. The clubs at the end of those two were about as big as Tony himself. 

Strangely, he didn’t feel threatened, not even as Loki enclosed the space around them, trapping him in his hold without escape. Not even with his tentacle’s sting neutralized. 

He felt safe, Loki’s magic a sweet balm against his own burning core, a playful thing, enticing as much as reassuring. 

Loki smirked, almost soft. 

“Truce?”

They were trapped in each other, around each other, long stalks of kelp, thin tentacle filaments and suckered limbs all tangling snugly together.

It was essentially a tie, because for all that Tony’s poison was nullified, Loki too was rendered helpless. And while Tony could still use electricity, and so could his forest, Loki could also harm him at such a close range. 

Though, Tony knew Loki would not, not unless he refused the truce, of course. But he was aware that their fight could hardly go on much longer without them doing actual _damage_ to each other, and neither of them wanted that. 

Still, there were many things implied by Loki’s offer, many underlying meanings layered in that simple word. And Loki had left the choice up to him. 

He could let the kraken go, unbind him from his forest’s embrace and make that _truce_ one where they made their separate ways. He could keep him, yet steer their relationship in a safer ground, the very same cordial friendship Tony had kept with Yinsen.

Or he could actually pull the other mer closer, and offer an answer to the seduction thick in the mer’s voice. 

Tony’s tentacles curl over Loki’s body, clutching him even closer as his lips part in an inviting smile. 

“I’m sure it can be… _arranged.”_

He’d never been one to take the easy way out, after all. 

Adrenaline was running hot through them both, a similar sort of hunger echoing through their smirks, anticipation thickening the water around them even as their magics twisted together, sizzling at the contact, heavy with arousal. 

Loki’s eyes were so very _green._

He was smiling, gleeful and relieved by Tony’s answer, a predatory glint darkening his eyes as he nipped at Tony’s lips, playfully, seductively. 

But Tony was already seduced. Loki was clever, tricky and quick-witted as much as powerful, he was respectful and careful, and more than anything else, he did not depreciate Tony, nor think him a monster for what he had become. 

No, instead he saw the beauty and sheer _genius_ of his Ark, he saw the wonder of his forest and instead seeked to have _Tony_ and not just the product of his efforts. And even now, he had put himself so trustingly in his poisonous embrace, and cleverly protected himself from his most immediate weapon. 

Loki had not underestimated him… much. But, for a creature as great and powerful as a kraken, one who was obviously unused to even being _challenged,_ let alone defeated, he was taking it exceptionally well. 

And Tony… Tony _liked_ him. His magic liked him, he found the other mer beautiful, found his gargantuan form reassuring and arousing, and the many prehensive limbs curling around them _intriguing._

From there on, there was no reason left to hesitate. 

He curled himself closer, letting their bodies press together, twining an arm around Loki’s neck as the other slid down the kraken’s chest. 

It was incredible, the way Loki managed to be so powerful while also looking so deliciously lithe and agile, the hidden strength corded in each powerful muscle. His huge frame dwarfed him and yet their mer halves remained close enough in size to be in conversation. Even then, Loki was still so very handsome, so very delicious to look at. 

Tony felt his belly clench pleasantly. He was already out of breath, even now before anything even happened. Loki curled a hand over his cheek, his other hand wandering over Tony’s exposed flesh. Curious fingers skirted over the edge of his Ark, lingering on the scars that could be found there. Metalfingers scars, thinner than any made by any claws he’d seen before, and yet so much crueler. 

The only marks that could mar a merlly skin. 

But Loki did not gaze at them with disgust, nor pity. His eyes remained soft yet hungry, curious and covetous, _awed._

Wandering hands, soft caresses, breaths loud between them, intimate, even as eight arms roamed Tony’s body, suckered tips gently teasing at his skin. 

He gasped, back arching into the touches, trembles wracking his frame at the heady blend of adrenaline and lust coursing through him. 

He was very aware of how deadly those could be, he clearly remembered the scarred skin of great whales and human ships’ metal hulls. And yet they were handling him so delicately, so gently, he could not bring himself to feel fear. 

No, instead there was desire pooling in his belly, bright and hot, gonads shining incandescent through his bell, cheeks flushed with magic and breath short. Slowly, deliberately, the suckered tips hooked over the edge of Tony’s bell and slid it up carefully, spreading it out and holding him there, bare, restrained, exposed to Loki’s greedy gaze. 

Tony burned with embarrassment, incomprehensible shyness at finding himself so vulnerable, his most intimate parts on display, naked almost, in a way he hadn’t experienced before. But Loki was curious, hungry. He wanted everything, every last inch of him, every blush, every gasp, every shudder. He took it all in with dark eyes, and demanded more still. 

His armtips too, were curious, eagerly mapping the sensitive skin of his underbell, curling and suckling at him until Tony became a writhing mess, whining and clinging at Loki. His hands clutched at his dark hair punishingly, tangling amongst the strands as he was driven to near madness by all those new sensations he was inflicting upon him. 

Loki was undeterred. 

Chuckling softly, darkly in his ear, he nipped at the delicate skin at the base of Tony’s crown-bell, before sliding down his jaw and suckling at his neck, 

His hands kept massaging softly at Tony’s flesh, suckered armtips teasing, kneading, sucking until every inch of his skin tingled with sensitivity, formerly untouched flesh now pulsing and throbbing with desire. 

Tony gasped, air bubbles escaping from his mouth as nerves he wasn’t even aware he _had_ reacted to Loki’s careful ministrations. His insides pulsed with heat, a soft hum of need that made him squirm. 

At this rate Loki would have driven him mad long before he even unsheathed his penis.

“So responsive. Do you realize how beautiful you are, right now? When I first saw you I barely believed that you could be a mer at all. I thought you must be an apparition, an Ocean Spirit manifesting through magic itself. How else could such an ethereal creature feel so powerful?”

Tony shivered at the words, cleverly woven traps that they were. And yet he found himself falling for them, body trembling, yielding before the sensual assault, quivering with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation burning hot and electrifying through his body. 

Curious limbs started circling his hole, pressing, teasing at his opening. Tony whined, curling tighter around his kraken lover, body spasming with both the desire to come closer and the curling need to _get away from the predator._

But the chase was over now, he was well and truly caught, both their bodies interlaced so much they could hardly detangle themselves without both being willing to do so. His bell was bound, too wide to pulse through water, fluttering uselessly against the restraining arms and their terribly gentle suckling. 

He could see the hunger, the eagerness in Loki’s eyes, wide with the need to _claim,_ to make Tony _his_ in a way that was even more fundamental than simple copulation. 

Tony wanted it too, and wanted to do the same in turn, to imprint his essence deep into the other’s mer’s being until it was plain to see for any mer with the slightest hint of mage-sense. 

The suckered armtips pressed deeper, teasing his rim, tugging and pulling as they tested its stretch, sucking in the surprisingly sensitive skin before letting it pop out, then catching it again. 

Tony thrashed against Loki’s hold, against his too many arms, against the onslaught of pleasure that was drowning him. The world made no sense anymore, blurring into a maelstrom of too much delight, too much _everything._ He gasped out, breathless, lost as though he was landed again. He still felt safe, though, with the sea reassuringly pressing against him from all sides, and Loki’s unyielding hold still on the thrilling side of too tight. 

Insistent suckers attached themselves over his bell, over the incandescent shine of his gonads, massaging them, squeezing and teasing them until they pulsed with heat and blinding bursts of pleasure. 

Tony whined, bell fluttering helplessly as he pressed himself tighter against Loki, searching out some comfort against those strange and overwhelming sensations. It felt too good, too vivid. It was taking over his entire body, searing in a way even the sun’s merciless fury had not matched. 

And yet, Tony could not help but want more, _need_ more, he wanted to feel more of whatever this was until he felt consumed by it, until he was entirely lost in the landslide. 

But, no matter what, Loki would see him through the end. 

Even as he gasped out, hopelessly trying to cling to sanity even while it was being assaulted from two sides, even as he felt the pressure inside him build up more and more until he was a writhing mess, he knew that Loki would see him through the end. 

Where that trust came from, Tony could not tell. Perhaps it was Loki’s gaze, perhaps the way their magics clung together, perhaps simply the tender way Loki’s lips lingered on his as they kissed. 

But when his world turned white with pleasure and his entire body seized as it crested, Tony felt safe enough to let himself be swept away with it, to yield under the onslaught of bliss and simply _feel._

It crashed over him like opposite Great Currents colliding into a whirlpool, robbing him of breath and mind, of everything that was not the throbbing pulse of heat inside him and Loki’s unyielding hold keeping him from simply shattering to pieces. 

And then it was mostly over, leaving Tony shaky and limp in the kraken’s arms, shivering with aftershocks. 

His breath was heavy, echoing strangely loud between them as he attempted to pull himself together after just shaking apart like that. 

He felt lethargic and yet completely euphoric, not even fighting the almost irrepressible urge to giggle and press even closer to his lover. He wanted his touch, his tenderness, jarring closeness that had made him feel so very _warm._

Loki pressed a sweet kiss on his brow, hands gentle as they caressed his trembling flesh, soothing and arousing all at once. 

“So delightfully responsive. How beautiful you are in your pleasure, how bright you shine. But that light is just for me, your delight only mine to witness. I want to make you shine just as bright every day for the rest of our lives.” 

Tony’s eyes clenched tight, unable to hold the dark tenderness in Loki’s green gaze, but it could not shut off the delicious words whispered in his ears, the sensual promises dripping from his lips like the most alluring of threats. 

“I want to make you glow with the life of my offsprings inside you, to make you shine with pleasure so bright, it would cross through the surface and shame the sun itself, if I did not capture that glow for myself instead.” 

Loki was covetous, he was _greedy._ Like the dragons of stories of old, Tony knew without even asking that he would hoard each glimmer caused by his own actions, each smile, each spark of pleasure or hunger, and cherish them, hide them away for only his eyes to see. 

But Tony was no tame pile of golden coins. He was no human treasure chest, nor pretty rock or jewel to be hidden away and sat on. His kraken had better not expect him to be anything but himself, as wild and powerful as he’d forged his own power, as independent as he’d made himself. 

He might be lonely, might want _company,_ but no one would ever take away his agency. 

Not if they expected to _live._

Loki chuckled, as though in answer to his sudden stiffening. He laid a sweet kiss under Tony’s jaw, almost an apology. 

“I know, Wild One, my untamable Ocean Spirit. Nothing can ever take away your freedom. Not unless you let them. You have created your own empire where you reign supreme, you have mastered magic beyond the bounds of any mer’s imagination. To try to take that power from you, to take _anything_ from you would bring them to their end.”

But Tony did not relax. Because as much as it sounded like everything he ever wanted to hear, like a truth more absolute even than the currents of the ocean, and the great whale migration, it still felt like a trap. One that he wanted nothing more than to fall into. 

So he waited, with bated breath, knowing that more was to come, knowing that Loki was weaving his words in a net even deadlier than those tentacles of his, even deadlier than the giant kelps under Tony’s command. 

There had always been something of seawitches’ skills to the krakens, though they hardly advertised it, and rarely needed to make use of such. 

Seawitches were known to be too clever by half, using pretty words and gilded promises to trap poor souls in unbreakable contracts. They’d always fascinated Tony. 

Yinsen had been surprisingly _kind,_ but Tony had always known words had power and that, had he truly wanted it, he could have easily twisted Tony apart and bound him in servitude. Perhaps he’d known that such a thing would have destroyed him. Perhaps he truly wanted to do good, or perhaps octopi-mers simply had a terrible reputation compared to the reality of facts. 

Tony had never questioned it before. But now that he found himself at a krakens mercy, now that he found those heady words closing around him like a snare, one so pleasant he wanted nothing more than to curl himself into its coils and let it wash over him, he could not help but _wonder._

What was he swimming into? 

But even now, he didn’t want to stop. This mer that had almost but not quite bested him, and who had been clever enough to _catch_ him anyway, who had shown him respect and admiration, desire. 

He wanted to hear more, to hear what clever trap he was laying for him. 

He did not think he would mind being called Loki’s Ocean Spirit for the rest of his life. 

This creature that the kraken saw in him, he could recognize himself in it. He could feel it echo through the water that filled him, shiver with _rightness._

“But it is not quite the same if you choose to _give_ that power away, is it? Is that not something you want? To let me have you in my grasp, to do with as I wish, to bring to the heights of pleasure again and again, at my whims, at your behest, at my mercy, and your own?”

Tony shivered, feeling the tips of Loki’s arms poke at his hole, slowly pushing in before retreating, breaching his body just the slightest, tantalizing in the promise of more of those blinding bursts of pleasure, and yet never quite giving him what he wanted. 

Because he knew instinctively that, as much as he’d enjoyed the way the suckers had played with his gonads from the outside, it would be _nothing_ compared to the feeling of having something inside him, filling him up, pressing up directly against them. 

He knew what Loki was doing. Of course he did. Tricksy kraken. 

Of course he would try to tempt him into compliance, to haze his mind with lust even as he whispered sweet promises and overtures, appeals and enticements. To show with his soft touches a foretaste of what could come later, if only Tony agreed, a hint of pleasures and delights to come. 

Of course Tony knew. 

That did not mean it was not working. 

“I want to bring you over that edge over and over again until you can no longer think of anything but me, until you can no longer imagine a life without me by your side, inside you, filling you with so much pleasure it seeps from you through your every pore.” 

Because he _did_ want everything Loki was offering. He did want the freedom offered in that wanton abandon, the safety inherent to having such a powerful lover to take care of him when he was tired. Not always, not in a way that would hinder or restrict his own liberties, but. 

Jellies swam in blooms. There was something to be said about knowing that you were not alone, that you could rest in peace because a bloommate could ensure your safety. 

Had Tony not had his lights, his strange mangler mimetism, and later on, his forest watching over him, he knew he would have become prey a long time ago. 

Jellies were not meant to roam alone. 

So, of course Tony was tempted, and not only by the offer of pleasure and intimacy, but also by the implicit partnership offered, by the unspoken protection and cooperation that was part of every long lasting coupling undersea. 

It was a promise hidden in every one of the kraken’s word, just a lilting hint of that future being alluded to, cautiously, tentatively, almost as though he’d feared that in his time alone Tony would have decided he preferred his independence to the usually accepted courtship offers. 

He might even have believed that it was not truly part of what the kraken offered, if not for the hand splayed over Tony’s chest, the nine ritual words quickly whispered over his lips, almost like a prayer, the deliberate heaviness of his gaze as he asked, “would you like that?” 

Tony shivered, bubbles slipping from his parted lips. 

Of course he wanted it. 

He’d wanted it even as he started their chase instead of simply moving in for the kill, as he’d tried to run instead of netting his tentacles around the kraken and burning him with poison, stunning him with his electrictricity enough to let him sink into his forest’s reach. Even now, he was in the kraken’s grasp only because he allowed it. He could at any moment let the lightning course through the forest with increasing power until it became strong enough to end the kraken. 

Loki had said that any mer who attempted to take from him against his will would die, _and he was right._

But then, it was just as true that Tony _wanted._ Of course he could ignore it, let himself be distracted by every tiny thing in his path, every wisp, shrimp and fern, but it did not make the ache in his chest any easier to bear, did not truly alleviate the _need_ that crippled him at times. 

Because as _covetous_ as the kraken as shown himself to be, Tony himself hid an immeasurable _yearning._ And perhaps he had found something, _someone_ who could quench that inescapable craving. 

“Yes.” 

Barely a whisper, but one that showed no hesitation because, yes, yes _of course_ Tony wanted what Loki was offering. He wanted everything, and even more yet. And he would not be satisfied until Loki had made good on his promise, let the kraken turn this into a witch-contract, let him take their words and turn them into shackles of magic, a bond more powerful and insidious than any simple mating promise. 

Because, as much as Loki wanted to make his claim with this, so too would Tony use their _pledge_ to weave their essences together. 

And so he said _yes,_ knowing how much it meant, how monumental that single word could be. He might as well have signed his True Name in his own blood, he knew. Not that Loki might not still make him do so later on, if only for the sake of making their vow yet more unbreakable, but his agreement had been binding nonetheless. 

One did not lightly give their word to a seawitch, and Tony was starting to understand that krakens were much the same. His unspoken words had crackled with power in his mouth, heavy with the weight they would hold, urging caution and honesty, but, truthfully, Tony could not have answered any different. 

He _wanted._

And he’d never been one to deny himself. 

Loki took in his agreement with a surprised blink, before a hungry smile grew on his lips, a predatory glint to his eyes that made Tony’s belly clench with need. 

Obviously, Loki had not expected him to agree quite so fast, nor to seal his word with magic quite so deliberately. But then, Tony was hardly going to make himself _predictable,_ was he? 

He knew what he wanted, and what he needed to do in order to obtain it. They could discuss the minutiae later, after all. 

And apparently, Loki was of the same mind, a smile pressing against Tony’s throat as he chuckled against his skin before his form _rippled,_ arms tightening their hold around Tony in a decidedly more possessive hold than he’d allowed himself before. 

Tony was not complaining, far from it. A low whine was building at the back of his throat as the manhandling stirred some deep seated instinct inside him, a desire to lay back and relish in the sheer strength of a lover, to bask in their hold and let himself feel small and vulnerable in their grasp. 

His back arched, yielding before Loki’s will, before his offer, his _lusts._

Loki’s prehensile limbs only inched further across his underbell, teasing his flesh sucker after sucker, claiming his flesh as Tony trembled in his grasp. 

Slowly, his gonads stirred back to life, pulsing with heat and renewed arousal. Anticipation curled in his stomach as Loki’s limbs came back to his hole once more, tantalizingly slow, while Loki let his fingers drag over his chest. Tendrils of magic teased at his Ark, sparking with static and charging the water between them. 

He let himself sink in a sea of pleasure, giving himself with abandon and trusting that Loki would guide him safely through to the other end. Loki’s eyes were dark and intense, green coils of magic weaving around Tony’s flesh like ribbons, caressing and seeping under his skin, sending golden drops of bliss ricketing through his core. 

He felt almost too buoyant, as though he would float up to the surface if Loki did not keep a hold of him, as though the many arms coiled around him were in fact the only thing keeping him safely anchored to the deep. But Loki would never let him go now, not when he’d given his word, his agreement, not when he’d allowed himself to be bound like that. Not unless he asked to be freed, and Tony had no intention to do so. 

Not when Loki’s arms were curling around his hole and teasing his rim, sucking it in before hooking inside and slowly spreading him open. 

The stretch felt both burning and _exhilarating,_ He was gaping open, his hole struggling to close against the hold of Loki’s armtips, fluttering helplessly even as a curious limb teased its way inside, large blunt tip gently pushing its girth inside him, forcing him open around it. 

Tony gasped, writhing, the foreign sensation sending searing bolts of pleasure rippling through his core, the helplessness of his position only serving to drive his pleasure higher, to make him want _more,_ an insatiable craving waking in his belly. 

And through it all, Loki was watching him, enraptured and hungry, the perfect predator having finally caught his quarry. And while his limbs were careful and gentle as they fondled Tony, they still held him in a dominating grasp, powerful and unyielding as they handled him. 

Tony delighted in it. There was something thrilling to the thought of Loki maneuvering him around to better suit his tastes, about the sheer power and _danger_ of the lover he’d taken for himself and his casual shows of strength. The way green eyes glinted sharply in the ambient light of his forest, their unwavering focus as they observed him, the naked pleasure reflected there as he watched Tony writhe in his coils, his willing captive, his all too vulnerable lover slowly succumbing to the blissful torments he was inflicting upon him. 

Just as there was something deeply satisfying to the fact that, in the end, _Loki_ was the one trapped there, that Tony’s own power held the kraken in bonds just as secure as the arms restraining him. 

But then that power play mattered little, in the end. They were both exactly where they wanted to be. 

The suckered tip of Loki’s arm inside him made its way slowly deeper, gently stroking and teasing his insides as Tony whined and gasped in Loki’s arms. He jerked as it pressed up against his gonads, devious suckers attaching to them and kneading, sucking, squeezing until Tony lost his mind to the torturous surges of pleasure crashing through him, over and over again. 

He cried out, arching, twisting, fluttering his bound bell haplessly, torn between the desperate urge to get away, to find a release to the unrelenting swells of bliss building up into his core, and the disorienting need for _more,_ an inconceivable hunger, a _craving_ that twisted through his course and fed from the flood of delight tearing him apart so deliciously. 

His hands grasped at Loki’s shoulders, static coursing through his body and skittering over his lover’s back. He was starting to shine once more, gonads glowing incandescent, pulsing with heat and light, almost blinding as they throbbed under Loki’s relentless grasp. They felt raw and sore, too sensitive under the continuous suckling, almost bruised as more jolts of pleasure shook through him. 

Tony panted, exhaustion warring with delight, the pressure inside him too intense for words as he was held on the cusp of that rapturous feeling, drops of golden light flashing through him as the tension mounted, more and more… 

It broke. Tony came with a low cry, belly clenching tight and staticky bolts of lightning sparking around him as he twisted in Loki’s grasp, rapture tearing through him and leaving him limp. 

Loki caressed his cheek. Tony blinked up at him, tired and lust-drunk, eyes heavy-lidded with sated bliss. 

There was wonder in Loki’s gaze, something awed and reverent, a glimpse at a vulnerability Tony knew somehow that he would be the only one to see for as long as they would remain together. Tony felt inordinately possessive over it. He wanted to hoard those quiet looks and discreet smiles, wanted to make them grow in the same way he’d grown the forest around them, one smile after the other, letting them grow each time deeper, truer, more significant and intimate until Loki no longer remembered a time without happiness. 

Perhaps it was foolish of him. He did not even know where the urge came from, but there was something incredibly endearing to his behemoth of a lover. For all his power, all his strength, he was so very tender. It made Tony want to cherish him, to wrap himself around him and offer him the very same peace he’d been granted. Later, perhaps. 

His mind was wandering sluggishly, the world syrupy as he tried to refocus on the matter at hand. 

Loki smiled again, mischievously, a dimple appearing on his cheek for a blink before he leaned close and nipped at Tony’s nose. 

Tony jerked back, with a confused blink. Loki was smugly looking back, teeth glinting sharply as he tilted his head playfully. 

“Are you back with me?”

The words were gently chiding, but Loki’s tone and the devious glint in his eyes showed the affection and tease hidden there. 

Still, Tony felt himself flush. He was used to his mind wandering, focus snagged by any small snippet of puzzle, and glint of mystery or bauble needing fixing. 

However, doing so while he was being intimate with a mer, still high on the sated bliss of rapture and filled by his lover’s limb was more than embarrassing. 

Loki did not seem to mind, however, if the soft laughter was off any indication. He nuzzled the tender skin under Tony’s jaw, before nipping a path up to his ear. 

“Because I am not done with you just yet. Far from it. Unless you have decided you are not up to the challenge? Are you quitting on me, darling? Such a pity, and me who thought I had finally found someone who would be worthy of carrying my eggs.”

Tony squirmed at the deep rumbling purr, the dare and promise rolled up in a sensual croon. He felt his spent gonads deliciously stirring to life at those words, the feather touch of lips, whispered currents of waters rolling over his skin. 

Eggs. Tony has never truly considered he would ever have eggs. Not because merllies did not lay any, they did, and even if it weren’t the case most mer species were compatible between each other in _some_ way. Some more than others. Tony’s own father has been some sort of mershark, after all, before he realized that his get was a boneless, brainless bloomer like his mother and left them. 

Jellies had always been considered _strange,_ airheaded and defective somehow. 

As it was, Tony had always been a rather solitary creature, even amongst the bloom. He’d never expected to find anyone to make a family with, long before he’d become an ‘ _outcast from the rejects.’_ He had fully expected to finish his life alone. 

It would have even been a blessing, to no longer receive those distasteful visits from manglers. 

On the other end, the only reason krakens we’re not mer royalty was because merfolks did not have a concept of social hierarchy the way humans did. They were secretive, but fair and poised, powerful, swift, beautiful and deadly. Loki could have had his pick from any fluttery maiden in the ocean, had he only looked. 

But he wanted _Tony._

What a strange feeling that was. Even knowing he wanted to have something permanent with his kraken lover, he had not considered the possibility of family. Of _eggs._

Silly of him. 

“Is this not something you want?” 

_It was,_ Tony realized with a start. Now that the idea had been planted in his head, he couldn’t seem to be able to think of anything else. Like his forest, it had only started with a tiny seed but it kept growing, the thought of his belly heavy with eggs, himself carrying them like leafy sea dragons did, back in the sunny coral reefs. 

Small fries, hatchlings hiding and playing amongst his tentacles, scurrying under his bell, hiding in the many stalks of his forest. Loki, with a soft smile on his face as he watched his tiny hatchlings grow, playing at catching them with his tentacles, with the infinite gentleness Tony had seen from him. 

He could see their lives going forward, tiny drops of happiness and joy lighting the depths like a sea of stars. 

“You’re wandering again. Did I wear you out too much? Or am I boring you?”

Loki pressed a kiss to his cheek, slow, deliberate. Perhaps too solemn, as though he’d taken Tony’s silence as a rebuttal. 

That would not do. 

Tony pulled at Loki’s hair, forcefully dragging the kraken to face him. Loki’s eyes were wary as they met his, a thin veneer of false bravado lifting the corner of his lips in a smirk. 

Tony cursed his wandering mind. He didn’t like seeing Loki so hesitant. Even less so knowing he’d been responsible for the upset. And words did not often cooperate either, twisting and lapsing in the time it took for his mouth to catch up with his thoughts. 

There were easier things, easier ways to let his intentions be known.

He leaned forward, bringing their lips together gently, then more insistently. He poured himself into the kiss, his need, his earnestness, his lust. The passion and the simmering traces of pleasure still rippling through his core, the languorousness of sated bliss. The kiss slowed, unhurried tenderness and the small budding sparks of affection, respect, _trust._

When Tony gently broke the kiss, Loki followed him, eyes closed in bliss, dazed blinks and soft smiles. 

“I want it.”

That was all Tony said, all he _could_ say. There was too much in his mind, otherwise, he could already feel the words tripping over each other, ideas mixing together too quick to follow, lives and desires and hatchlings. Too many things to say for it to come through coherently in a linear fashion. It would be like trying to explain the forest, trying to make sense of the ocean itself. 

But, that want was simple, clear, _true._

And the warmth he felt at Loki’s answering smile was the truest of them all. 

The water was hushed between them, thick with feelings left unspoken, but it was not a bad thing. It was intimate, as though they were the only two mers in the ocean, protected in a small bubble of warmth and kraken flesh, nested in the heart of Tony’s home. Nothing could reach them, here. 

There was nothing but each other’s breath, the gentle shuffling of water that came with close proximity to another being, and Loki’s smiles, brighter even than the many kelp stalks around them. Not for the first time, Tony found himself wanting to keep that smile there forever. 

Loki took his time to pull himself out from Tony, playful suckers giving a fond pat and squeeze on his gonads on the way out. Tony squirmed, moaning at the tease, cursing when he heard the kraken’s low chuckle. The kraken’s long arm kept slipping out from his hole, deliberately slowly, torturously gentle as it pulled at his rim, tugging impishly as it refused to give way at first to the large sucker fondling his insides.

He gasped, whining at the way his rim stretched at it, yielded before the added girth, burning with the stretch before his hole finally snapped close. But the arm’s retreat was inexorable, cruelly pushing Tony beyond the bonds of overwhelming pleasure and pulling him into the torturous waters of oversensitivity. 

He jerked into Loki’s hold, squirming as the next sucker pushed against his twitching hole, forcing him open once more, hole burning with the stretch, fluttering at the gentle suckling of the soft pad on its way out, before snapping closed around the limb after it. 

Tony kept gasping, writhing, _helpless,_ feeling like his sanity was torn from him, drop by drop as each sucker came out of him, torturously slow and flirtatiously cruel. 

Tug, strum, ripple, stretch, _burn,_ suck, tease, _writhe,_ snap, slide, pleasure in so many forms, too much to comprehend, again and again. It was neverending, it was more than he’d ever thought possible to feel, gonads sore and fluttering inside his bell as they started shining again, aching, _throbbing._ He pulled at Loki’s hair in retaliation, choking on bliss and rippling bolts of overwhelming pleasure, head falling limply on Loki’s shoulder as he struggled through each gulping breath. 

It felt too much, but he didn’t think he could bear it if it stopped. 

A wall of suckers pressed against his back, crushing him reassuringly tight against Loki’s chest, the three beats rhythm of his main heart anchoring him to the moment, to the closeness of his lover and the boundaries of his body. 

With Loki holding him close, and the club at the end of his tentacle that had seemed so lethal during their fight now reassuringly large and comforting, he managed to breathe through the rest of the tentacle slipping from him, shuddering as each sucker became smaller, popping out of him faster and faster until only the very tip remained. 

His belly felt distressingly empty. 

A thought came to him, sudden and terrifying. Tony gripped at Loki’s arms, stopping him in his tracks as he searched his eyes almost frantically. 

“What if they’re not like you?”

Loki looked back, uncomprehending. Tony pulled tighter, fingers digging into Loki’s shoulders. 

“What if the hatchlings are not krakens? What if they turn out to be merllies instead?”

Tony would not let what happened to him be repeated on his children. He would not abandon his child, nor would he let them think themselves to be wrong, disappointing or defective somehow, even less because of something as ridiculous as the way they were born, but did he really want to mate with a mer who would reject a merlly polyp?

He did not, in truth. 

The thought was as chilling as the pole’s frostfingers piercing through his core, and as painful as the human’s claws. Suddenly, Tony could no longer breathe, the water tasting stale and oppressive, Loki’s hold on him no longer the reassuring grasp of a lover, but that of a predator. 

Around them, the forest started stirring again, too low and hushed for anyone but its master to know. 

“If they hatch as polyp, then I will be glad they inherited the brilliance and beauty of their bearer. Just like you would love them if they hatch as witchlings.”

Loki’s voice was soft, gentle. Patient. It echoed with the quiet certainty of a vow, and Tony’s worry melted under Loki’s steady gaze. 

He relaxed back into Loki’s hold, the heavy mantle of the tentacle-club pressing him close, the loud and steady beats of Loki’s hearts. His bell was still spread wide, still flattened and restrained in a way that left him all too vulnerable, all too exposed, hole twitching eagerly as the kraken’s many arms explored and teased at his underbell. 

He could feel the blunt tip of Loki’s penis nudge at his hole, large and smooth, as agile and precise as the arm that came before it. 

Tony shivered, moaning with desire colored with a strange nervousness. He felt sore already, sated and exhausted, _but still wanting._ His gonads pulsed with reawakened need, his insides aching with emptiness. Loki had promised him _eggs,_ and Tony had no intention of calling their play to a stop until he had received every last one of them. 

Loki’s gaze was piercing, assessing as it bore into his own. There was something reassuring to his watchfulness, the promise of care, the assurance that he would not go beyond what Tony was capable of enduring plain to see in his eyes. 

“I’ve got you, now.” 

It was barely a murmur, but Tony could feel himself melting under it, relishing in the embrace and giving himself over to his lover’s care. 

When Loki’s penis pushed inside him, it was with slow deliberation, a gentle and slick push against his pucker. His body yielded, almost easily, Tony slumping with a groan as Loki’s girth stretched him open, the burn now a familiar thrill after Loki’s previous explorations. 

Tony trembled as he felt his body yielding so sweetly, Loki’s cock thick but smooth as it slipped inside of him, the intrusion a welcome respite from the emptiness. 

His breaths were heavy, labored. Loki’s cock felt long, so very long as it kept sliding in, pushing more and more of its weight inside him. It felt endless, a continuous glide through his taut rim, so thick compared to his body he was still amazed that it could fit inside him at all. And it was filling him up, slowly, steadily, making its way up his body until Tony thought there would be no more room to give. There always was, somehow. Jellies were incredibly _flexible._

And then, when he thought it had reached as far as it could go, so deep that Tony’s body couldn’t stretch any longer to accommodate it, it _bent,_ coiling and curling on itself, so very thick and heavy in his belly, stretching him even _more._

Tony whined, a low pleading sound as he clung tighter to his lover. He gasped out a sob, trembling as he felt Loki’s cock keep pressing in, keep filling him up. It was so thick, so _long._ Loki was groaning above him, a deep growling sound that rumbled through his core, like delicious sparks of heat. 

It was unending, relentless. An inexorable onslaught, the cock inescapable and overwhelming. Tony’s bell fluttered, he squirmed, groaning as it pressed up against his gonads, rubbing and squeezing them as Tony twisted in a desperate attempt to escape the throbbing pulses of pleasure.They were too sensitive, each touch against them echoing and rippling through him in ever magnifying waves. It felt too much, too vivid, too intense. 

Loki kept pushing inside, mercilessly gentle and implacable. 

Tony panted, breathless, mindless, consumed by the lust and exhaustion, his body alight on the edge between delight and soreness, each throbbing pulse of need fluttering through his core. 

He groaned, low and desperate as the cock inside him started rippling, _writhing,_ his hole clenching around Loki’s shaft as it shifted, bumps appearing over the smooth limb, long ridges that pressed down against his rim before they popped their way inside him, one mind-rending stretch after the other. 

Tony cried out, clawing at Loki’s back as he twisted in his bonds, each ridge pushing against his insides, strumming though his rim, pushing him closer and closer to that edge of madness and rapture that he’d been caught into. It was too good, too intense for words, for thoughts, his gonads had started shining again, incandescent brightness now joined by the glowing hills dotting Loki’s cock like so many instruments used for pleasurable torture, each one pulling him to his downfall. 

Bliss took over him, the pressure crashing in yet another display of light and delight, Tony crying out into the abyss as he crested, wave after wave crashing through him as suckers attached over his bell and his underbell milked him through it. 

But Loki never stopped. He kept pushing more of himself inside him, even as Tony squirmed and whined and gasped, helpless cries falling from his lips as his lights flickered in distress, pleasure falling over the edge of overwhelming and back as Loki pushed him mercilessly beyond the limits of his body. 

Ridge after ridge, bump after bump, Tony could feel himself getting fuller and fuller, until he felt so very stuffed, his body had to extend to accommodate the invasion. He wheezed, so full, too full almost, as though he would choke from how close to bursting he felt, how crowded with the many loops of cock coiled inside him, rubbing his too sensitive insides, squeezing his sore and tender gonads as though they intended to tear one last glow-burst from him. 

Tony was rather certain his body was unable to take more of this. Already, the world had taken on a hazy quality, a dreamlike edge where each burst of pleasure blended into the next. He felt like a polyp being jostled and thrown around by the currents, too disoriented to understand where the next wave would come from, shaken apart under the pressure. 

But Loki was there, anchoring him even as his own body seemed to become foreign, wounded tight with shivering anticipation, woven through with strands of burning bright pleasure that sizzled through him at the slightest touch. 

It was unending, unrelenting, the pressure of delight burning through him, embers brought back to life again and again, as though a volcano vent had been opened in his belly, pouring lava water under his skin that Loki never allowed to cool. 

Loki’s cock kept pushing in, pulsing through him, ridge after glowing ridge plopping inside him, forcing their way in, pushing their way deeper, one more coil curling inside his belly. 

And then, it started becoming impossibly larger, Tony’s rim burning with the stretch, pulled taut over Loki’s impossible girth, bolts of pleasure running through his bell as he found himself so deliciously caught, speared open and helplessly forced deeper on the too large knot, and then even deeper still, Loki’s arms manhandling his willing body, pushing him down onto the enormous cock until Tony finally felt the knotted bump slide inside him. 

Tony groaned at the sudden relief of his hole snapping tightly closed around it’s narrower base, before gasping at the snug grasp of a strange suckered ring enclosing his sore rim and deliciously squeezing it in. A confused squirming pulled at his trapped flesh, sending ripples of bliss through his core even as it kept him hooked tight against Loki’s belly, flattening his bell until the underbell was held flush against the soft and silky kraken skin. 

The knot felt heavy and large inside him, the infinite length of cock fattening him until he found himself clumsy and blissfully _full._

And then, Loki groaned over him, undulating, squeezing him tightly to his chest, fingers digging into his bell, feeling the girth of his cock pressing back from inside Tony’s flesh. Tony squirmed, gasping, writhing as Loki’s devious digits dug into his sore and spent gonads, squeezing and twisting them until they started flickering with lights again. He cried out, squeezing his bell, struggling against conflicting needs, cursing the responsiveness of his body even as delight sparked painfully through his exhausted flesh. He fluttered helplessly around the massive coiled mess inside him, clenching and twisting and tugging mindlessly even as more and more waves of helpless bliss tore through him. 

Tony slumped, overheated and shivering limply, wheezing as he trembled through the aftershocks. 

Loki groaned above him, hips jerking in short bursts, arms clutching him tightly and suckers tugging at him as his cock started pulsing inside him, rippling and writhing even as powerful jets of cum splashed against his walls. 

Tony shivered, groaning helplessly as the deliciously chilly liquid started filling him, flooding his insides and pushing against his already fattened bell, sloshing and swelling through him until Tony felt that he was about to burst. And still, Loki kept cumming, filling him up to the brim, until there was nothing in Tony but him, nothing in his world but Loki’s huge cock, and his heavy cum cooling down his heaving and desperate flesh. Until Tony felt like a pufferfish, swelling with each new surge of seed being pumped into him. 

Tony whined, confused and yet strangely delighted, relishing this new torment, this strange delight, this indescribable feeling of absolute fullness. 

His skin was pulled taut against the pressure inside him, the ever increasing flow of cum pressing against his walls from all sides. He keened, helpless and needy, clutching Loki as the kraken let his hands roam over his swollen and tender bell, flattening him against his side, pressing and teasing his oversensitive flesh, kneading his throbbing gonads until Tony shook like a minnow caught in the jaws of a predator, speared opened and already doomed to die. 

He’d never felt more alive. 

Loki caressed his cheek, thumbing the delicate skin under his eyes, sweeping away the glowing pearls clinging to his eyelashes. He smiled, soft and tender, yet his eyes were still heavy lidded, dark and hungry. The water between them tasted of lust and sated bliss, thick with the eager hum of magic and tiny glowing beads of air shaken loose from their fight. 

His fingers skirted further, brushing along his temple and burying themselves in the short strands that Tony usually kept hidden under the hood of his crown-bell. Even before he’d come to his exile, he’d preferred to keep it hidden, covered up under his upper bell. 

His hair was _short._ Mer from above and below all prided themselves on long luxurious locks, on slick barbs that could spear through attackers or catch the currents like sails that unwove to beautifully fanning strands when the threat had passed. Merlly hair in particular was supposed to be long and lustrous, mingling amongst their tentacles like so many deadly yet beautiful whips, cutting where the tentacles were poisonous. 

There was a reason Howard had chosen to mate with Maria, despite the shape of her lower half. Each merlly was uniquely beautiful, entrancing with their lethal grace and the strange serenity that somehow came with their peculiar view of the world. Merllies had often been described as otherworldly, ethereal. Though, sometimes Tony could not help but wonder if those adjectives were not simply the more polite substitutes for scatterbrained and _absent._

And yet, Tony’s hair had never grown. Thick, wavy, of a warm but dull brown color that offset his colorful bell quite nicely, but so very, very short. They had never been long enough to form the slightest hint of a fin, never truly echoed his thoughts like it was supposed to. It was yet another way he was so defective. 

And yet, the tender way Loki carded his fingers through the soft strands did not seem anything but pleased, maybe even _awed,_ gentle fingers curious as they twisted through the short locks, breath heavy with pleasure of his own. 

He leaned down, pressing their foreheads together, hand cradling the back of his skull as he groaned, a soft rumble that echoed through Tony’s core like an earthquake skittering through the ocean. His tentacle squeezed him even tighter, until there was no water left between them, nothing but skin against skin, 

Tony whined, trembling still, shaken by the closeness, the intimacy of breathing each other’s water, the terrifyingly soothing feeling of being entirely cocooned in another’s mer’s embrace, the heaviness of his belly still swelling from the even increasing pressure of cum filling him up. Loki was everywhere. 

“You are so very good to me, so brave and strong. So very responsive. So _trusting._ Do you know how lovely you look, heavy with my cock and delirious on pleasure? How much sweeter will that be with my eggs inside you, do you think? Will you even be able to swim anymore with them filling you up to the brim?”

Tony knew the answer to that. He would not. He would be too heavy, too clumsy, bell unwieldy and barely able to flutter, let alone pulse powerfully as he had during his chase with the kraken. He would be all too vulnerable, too slow to protect himself against any mer’s assault, too sluggish to even see a threat coming. 

Loki’s voice had turned rough and gravely, a desperate edge of desire that only made Tony clench harder around the cock writhing inside him, gonads giving out an eager but exhausted flicker of lust. Loki only growled in answer, flattening Tony’s bell even closer to him, cock pulsing as another great gush of cum flooded through his already stuffed belly, plugged hole clenching as Tony groaned, deliciously aching with how full he felt. 

Loki shuddered against him, their joined bodies caught in a spiral of delight rippling from one to the other, pleasure looping through them again and again as they lost track of time within each other. 

“Would you like that?”

Tony’s voice was rough as well, wrecked from too many orgasms, half choked with pleasure and fullness

He would have to trust Loki to protect him, to rely on him. He would probably survive if Loki refused to take care of him, with his forest acting as a guardian, an overprotective cornucopia that had always sheltered him in their embrace. But it would be harder, riskier. 

And perhaps, Loki wanted to feel needed, to see his mate round and helpless with young, looking to him for protection. Tony found himself amused at the thought. He knew himself, knew how resourceful he could be, how vicious when cornered, and Loki had witnessed first hand how powerful his last line of defense could be. But he wanted to be needed anyways. 

He would allow it, so long as the kraken did not start underestimating him. So long as he did not start thinking himself superior, or made attempts at controlling him. He could enjoy the fussing, could bask in being the subject of someone’s care and affection. He’d never truly been coddled before, the closest he’d come to it had been in Yinsen’s caves. 

There was respect in Loki’s eyes, fascination and wonder. His hands were gentle, fingers petting lightly through his hair as though he could hardly believe what was happening, as though Tony was but a mirage, a trick of the mind that would disappear any moment. 

“I would. I love how powerful you are, how brilliant and clever. How _lethal._ The thought that you would let yourself be vulnerable, for me, for our young, it is _heady.”_

Loki’s lips brushed Tony’s brow, eyes fluttering shut with bliss, a green glow of magic permeating the water around them. 

“But is it something _you_ want?”

A kiss, slow but passionate, Loki nibbling on Tony’s lips, tugging gently against Tony’s keening whines. Nimbles hands were still kneading at his gonads, careful but firm, deviously milking them back to light. 

Tony could do nothing but nod, whispering his assent against Loki’s lips as his body shook with need. He did want it, and he’d never heard anything more arousing or gratifying than Loki’s praise of his abilities. He would not relinquish his power to anyone, would not become subservient or helpless for any reason… but he could allow himself to be vulnerable. To be cared for. He already was, in a way.

“Are you ready? Because I can remove my cock from you, but once I put in my eggs, you will have to carry them to term.” 

Tony tugged at Loki’s hair in retaliation. He was no idiot, how many times did Loki plan on asking him before finally giving him what he wanted? As much as Tony was grateful, as much as he enjoyed the fussing and was reassured at Loki’s insistence that they were both on the same page, Tony knew his mind. He wasn’t about to back out on what he wanted. 

Perhaps he needed to make himself clearer. 

“Give them to me. Now.” 

Loki stared back at him, green eyes boring into gold, the static brush of magic buzzing with anticipation filling the abyss as the moment stretched, gazes locked together as they measured each other up, a challenge unspoken in the words. 

Of course Loki was hesitant, Tony could understand that. Mer did not lay clutches very often, after all, and while cross-species matings _did_ occur, they were not quite the norm either. 

It took a lot to trust a stranger with your progeny. 

And yet, Loki did not look _worried,_ not the way he would if this was truly about the safety of his clutch. No, the tender way he caressed his cheek, the piercing yet tender gaze, the way he swept his thumb along Tony’s kiss-swollen lips, all of it alluded to Loki being worried for Tony’s well-being more than anything else. 

That was new. 

And pleasant. 

His body felt strange, used in ways that were entirely unfamiliar, restrained more completely than ever before, stuffed full and locked tight against a predator much bigger and stronger than him and yet Tony did not feel trapped. That in itself should have been enough for him to know how special this was. 

Maria had been entirely charmed by Howard, enchanted by his roguishness, his clever words, his size and ruthlessness. Perhaps having a _thing_ for danger and cleverness ran in the family. And large mers, but that might be too much information. 

And yet, Tony already knew Loki and Howard were nothing alike. Howard had been cold and dismissive. He’d found faults in everything that Maria had been and merely tolerated her for the sake of what she could have offered him. And when the experiment had been a failure, he’d left, taking with him the one successful hatchling and leaving behind a broken merlly and a single polyp who understood too much for his age. 

Loki was nothing like that. His magic was nothing like that. 

Of course, knowledge of a mer came from time as familiarity and intimacy grew between them, but Tony was not worried. Worse come to worst, he could always eat the kraken, should he turn out to be cold and calculating, or violent and manipulative, or any combination of toxic. Surely, there would be plenty of small fry in the forest that could feast on such a large beast. 

But Tony would very much rather not. 

It had not always been easy for him, knowing what he wanted and what he did not, parsing out what was important from the more trivial things. Some days, it felt like nothing was of any matter at all; others, even the smallest bit of plankton could affect him enough to forget everything else. 

But now, everything was clear, almost _easy._

He wanted Loki. Wanted him in his life, in his forest, wanted to make a nest with him, to raise their young together, build something that would last. 

Companionship, affection, _family._

And Tony always got what he wanted. 

His arms twined around Loki’s neck as he threw himself in a kiss. Lips locked, pressing, twisting, caressing, and embrace that was more a sensual exploration than any display of dominance. After all they’d agreed to a stalemate. 

“Please.”

Loki rumbled with pleasure, hands digging into Tony’s supple flesh as he kissed Tony back with reckless abandon. This was more intimate than Tony had ever been, more vulnerable than he’d ever allowed himself, but Loki felt like home, felt like safety, and that was such a rare thing to have undersea. 

Something shifted inside Tony, Loki’s cock writhing and dragging over his walls, sending bright sparks of pleasure bursting through his core. Tony keened, kissing deeper as his mind grew hazy with lust, gasping breathlessly at the rush he felt. 

The knot locked around his rim kept suckling at the taut skin of his opening, squeezing and stretching his too sensitive hole. Tony broke the kiss, gasping, panting, twisting in his living bonds. 

And Tony started feeling _less full._

It felt strange, to have his hole so obviously plugged up, and yet to feel Loki’s cock slide out of him, retracting back into the kraken’s core. Tony whined at the emptiness, at the sheer dissonance of the two differing sensation, at the way Loki was still caressing his body, kneading his flesh and his gonads until he could hardly tell what sensation to concentrate on. 

Everything felt too vivid, too sensitive, his body still sore and tired, even after they’d taken the time to breath, to talk. It was only too quick to wake again, with aches and lusts, to protest the foreign and exhausting exertions he was inflicting upon it. Loki was a patient and conscientious lover, careful and precise, gentle and loving, and so very, very _demanding._

Tony loved it, never wanted it to stop. He relished in that soreness, the burning stretch of his flesh curving to accommodate his girth and to prepare him for receiving those eggs, the deep, throbbing ache of too much pleasure that rang through his core. 

He groaned, low and pleased, shivering as the thick bumps and ridges dragged over his inner walls as the cock kept sliding out of him, row after row until his belly felt almost flat. Loki’s cock was as long in its way out as it had been slipping inside, dexterous and smooth, deviously teasing his sensitive walls while Loki caught his lips again, swallowing down Tony’s desperate whines. 

Tony could only try to cling tighter, to press even closer to him, hopelessly grasping for an anchor as he felt his entire body shaking apart. Conflicting sensations were twisting through him, overwhelming and confounding, and Tony couldn’t do anything but hold on while he drowned in them. 

He felt as though he could not breathe any longer, as though he was burning up from the inside, Loki’s cock sending sparks after bolts of pleasure twisting through him, wrecking him. Loki’s lips caught his own, again and again, as though he was trying to drink his very soul in through his kisses, peppering his face with small pecks while tony gasped and panted before coming back again, hungrily devouring the desperation from his lips. 

Tony couldn’t do anything but _endure,_ clinging tight to his sanity even as he felt himself shattering on the edge of bliss. 

He felt so very empty. The last coil of cock teased at his gonads one last time before slipping back through the knot, sliding smoothly against his walls as Tony groaned helplessly, shivering. His belly still sloshed wetly with cum, hole still stretched wide as Loki’s knot kept him plugged up and locked against the kraken’s lower end. 

He loved it. Loved the strange closeness of Loki flattening him against him, his large tentacle pads pressed against his back, the many arms teasing at his underbell and kneading his gonads, the feeling of his hole being sucked in, caught on something too big for him, his belly still filled with his lover’s seed as anticipation curled through his gut. 

He shook, breathing hard against Loki’s neck, mouthing at the delicate skin that he found there. Loki groaned, hips jerking against him, fingers digging into him. 

Tony smiled. He might have been too overwhelmed to properly react before then, to make his own play at wrecking Loki in the same way _he_ had been, but in this moment, suspended between loss and anticipation, there was nothing stopping Tony from being as much of a tease as Loki had been. 

He nibbled at Loki’s throat, relishing in Loki’s groan, in the way he clenched around him, knot pulsing, arms curling tight as every sucker clamped themselves tightly on his skin, suckling and kneading at his flesh. 

Loki chuckled, low and breathless against Tony’s ear. And then Tony felt the knot around his hole swell, larger and wider, his rim burning with the stretch, as _something_ pushed its way inside. The knot kept stretching as the tip broke through, the first egg slowly pushing its way inside him, its oblong form forcing its way deeper and deeper while Tony panted with the rush. 

His breath hitched. His rim ached with how wide it needed to stretch, the soreness was a pleasant counterpoint to the renewed fullness inside him. His belly was used to the stretch at this point, taking the egg in easily, but it was only the first of many, and if this was the volume of one single egg, Tony wasn’t sure if he would even be able to take in all of them. 

It was deliciously jarring to think of how much bigger Loki was from him to have carried all those eggs with him so easily, to think of that massive cock hidden inside the kraken’s core on top of them. With Loki’s torso pressed against him and Loki’s mouth nipping at his lower lip, Tony had almost forgotten how utterly massive the other mer was. He was so graceful, those long suckered arms so agile and nimble he hadn’t quite computed what their girth meant. The large clubs at the end of the tentacles holding him so carefully, he’d almost forgotten how lethal they could be. 

Tony shivered with desire, mesmerized with the predatory gaze piercing through him as Loki smirked. 

He gasped as the first egg finally popped fully inside him, expelled from the knot and swishing through the cum filling him up, thick and long, smooth with their round ends poking softly against his walls. The shell felt just the slightest bit flexible, almost comfortable inside his belly. 

It was a strange sensation, decidedly not unpleasant, and his already aroused bell only lit up more with the intrusion. 

Tony laughed, breathless, irrepressible euphoria taking over him all of a sudden. He felt absurdly gleeful, as exhilarated as he’d been while escaping from Loki’s clutches. He smirked back at Loki, challenging and wild. 

Loki chuckled back at him, the both of them falling in a heap of giggles, intertwined in their intoxicated bliss. It felt good to laugh, freeing. They were twinned together, as close as two mers could be, and they were _happy._ Ridiculously so. 

Tony’s breath hitched gasping as the next egg started breaching through, the stretching burn just as searing, the push inside him slow and insistent. He hid his face in the crook of Loki’s neck, overwhelmed by the slow invasion, the way he felt his already taut hole widen as the egg forced its way through. 

He keened, desperate with an ache that felt too much like bliss, pressure starting to build inside him with the onset of a new rapture, gonads already sparking with intermittent shine as the egg popped all the way through.

He gasped, panting helplessly against Loki’s throat, the relentless tease he received from every one of the kraken’s devious limbs compounding with the sudden sensation of fullness until he found himself almost ready to burst. 

But it was only the beginning. 

Tony had not even fully recovered from the rush of the second before another egg presented itself to his eager and sore hole, pushing its way through, forcefully pressing in, thrusting itself through until Tony was left gasping, helpless and stuffed. 

Things became blurry afterwards. 

One after the other, more eggs started pushing their way into him, pressing deeper, opening him wider, again and again. Egg after egg, his belly swelled, his insides getting more and more crowded until his flesh had to stretch to accommodate, forced into yielding to the pressure of yet more eggs forcing themselves inside his already crowded hole. His bell curved and bulged, fattening as he choked and gasped, squirming at the indescribable feeling of _fullness,_ of being so stuffed he felt himself shattering. 

He lit up, once then twice then more, a constant stream of torturous bliss taking over his as Loki kept milking his gonads, as the eggs crowded inside him, squeezing them in, thrusting and pressing up against them again and again until bright spots of light shone through his bell, flashing again and again with his pleasure. 

Tony clenched his eyes shut, small, helpless cries escaping from his mouth, dwindling down to low keens muffled against Loki’s throat as his body gave in to the pleasure. Desperate panting shook through him as overwhelming waves of pleasure crashed through him, torturous and edged with the sharp edge of almost-pain, of having his body pushed to the limits of what was possible and _beyond._

Bliss lined with torment swirled through him, intoxicating as Tony found himself wracked by one orgasm after the other. His rapture was endless and unrelenting, cruelly heightening his pleasure beyond oversensitivity and agonizing delight until he was naught but a trembling mess, alight and overwrought. 

He sobbed. 

It was too much, he was too small, even merllies’ legendary ability to adapt, their almost elastic skin and malleable shape would not be enough to make this possible, to give him the ability to bear so many of those massive eggs. 

And still, pleasure kept coming, ceaseless waves of bliss swallowing him up, one after the other, excruciating to his overwhelmed senses, delightful and harrowing both at once. 

It was beyond overwhelming. It was euphoric beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. He’d lost all track of time, of light, of the sea around him. There was nothing more to him now than the unbroken stream of eggs pushing through him, the bliss, and Loki all around him, his last anchor through the torment. 

The eggs came slower now, straining to make their way in through his overcrowded bell, forcing their way in still, even now that there was no more room left to crowd. It did not matter, Tony’s limits did not matter before the eggs’ needs, he had to endure, to accommodate them as they kept squeezing and bundling inside his guts, fitting themselves in despite all logic, _making him_ fit them. 

He trembled as he yielded to the pressure, lost to pleasure and exhaustion, shattering again and again as they kept sweeping him under. 

“Almost there, love. You did so well, you’re so beautiful. Look at you, so full with our eggs, and yet still so strong, so magnificent in your pleasure. How big they seem inside of you? I can see them through your skin, my wondrous Ocean Spirit. These are the last few yet, you’re almost done, just a few more. You can do it, love, _you’re almost there.”_

Warm hands caressed his flanks, soothingly, gentle arms curling encouragingly around him as Loki whispered praises and promises, words of pleasure and affection, awe and admiration. Tony clung to them like a fish lost to a whirlpool trying to keep from being swallowed in by the storm. 

The waves crested, one last time, soreness blending with delight as one more egg forced his hole open, wide and thick, pushing and pressing its way through his crammed belly, trembling as each egg rearranged themselves to make it fit, pushing together, squeezing themselves in, pressing against his taut walls, ramming against his sore and sensitive gonads, crowding in and jostling together while Tony sobbed, gasping, clinging to Loki’s promise that _‘this was the last one honey, you did good, you can relax now, it’s done, you’ve done it, you’ve got them all.’_

He breathed out, shakily, still too sensitive, still desperate, hardly able to make sense of the pressure inside him, and the lack of a new onset of the burning stretch that meant one more egg pressing into him. 

_Because all the eggs were in._

His hole was still spread wide, stretched over Loki’s knot, but his bell fell loose, floating freely now instead of being rigidly locked against Loki’s belly. It must have been detachable, an ovipositor that now served to keep his hole plugged until the eggs were safely incubated enough to hatch. 

Tony relaxed at the thought, knowing that there was no risk of losing any egg, no risk of missing hatchling. He could rest now. 

Loki’s arms were still securely wound around him, however, and they kept him reassuringly bound close to the kraken, a restricting yet comforting embrace. 

But Tony felt too tired to move, to float, to keep himself anchor close. Loki could take care of that, could watch over him while he slept and recovered. 

He could hardly breathe, he felt deliciously heavy, stretched to the limit, _full_. 

Drowsiness weighted on his lids, limbs leaden, his body pleasantly sore and sated, mind sluggish and yet he felt _good,_ a soul deep contentment that shone through his core, _peace._

Loki pressed a kiss on his brow, something soft and sweet, a soothing caress against his flank, a gentle brush through his short hair. 

“You did well, darling. You can rest now.”

Tony huffed happily against Loki’s chest, pleasantly sore and satisfied. Tiny giggles escaped him before trailing off sleepily as he slumped down against his lover. 

For the first time since Howard had left his mother behind with nothing but a contemptuous glance at him on his way out, and even more since his exile from the bloom, he no longer believed himself to be fated to live the rest of his life alone, with only his creations for company. 

Tony had long ago grown out of thinking himself odd or defective. He was _unique,_ and this was something that he’d used to create the wonders around him, to grow such beauty from his own hands, from the time and magic he’d invested, the artifacts he’d crafted. 

But rarely had he found approval from other mers. Understanding. _Attraction._ Though there have been a few who had kindled friendships with him, or shown him appreciation and awe for his work, it had never been enough for them to actually want to make him part of their clan. 

Even the bloom had considered him something of an outsider, even before the mangler incident. He was odd, always going off on his own, losing himself on his craft, the spawn of a mixed mating abandoned by his sire. Accepted but never truly a part of the whole. 

He no longer felt that way. With the reassuring weight of their young inside him and Loki’s many arms winded around him, the steady beats of Loki’s three hearts under his ear, Tony couldn’t help but _trust._ Trust in Loki, in the offers he’d laid out to him, both implicit yet not, in the promises exchanged. 

His bell fluttered, flickers of happiness and anticipation glowing through his chest. 

Of course, time would tell. They would need to learn how to cohabit, how to speak to each other, to resolve future conflicts, to make each other happy. 

They would have to prove their words through acts, and make good on their intentions. But Tony was not worried, not even with the memory of his mother’s broken spirit so vivid in his mind. Because, not only was Loki nothing like Howard, Tony was not like Maria either. If his first attempt at happiness did not succeed, he would get back to the drawing board, and forge it anew. 

But _this?_ He felt that he could trust this. Trust in Loki’s care, his gentleness, the family they were building. 

The Ocean could be a cold and unforgiving place, it could be vast and _lonely._ But right at the moment, lulled by Loki’s gentle praises and quiet whispers of affection, enclosed in his embrace, Tony felt _warm_ in a way he thought he wouldn’t ever be able to find again since he’d left the more indulgent waters of the surface. 

He felt accepted, connected, _cherished._

He felt at peace. 

*

Krakens were usually solitary creatures. Loki had lived a long life, and had hardly sought any companionship during his years. The whales crossed oceans, mated and went back in the other direction, and yet Loki remained unchanged through the seasons. He’d gained experience, and a reputation. He’d hunted, bargained, explored, and while he’d yearned somehow, abstractedly, for something of the likes of the relationship between Laufey and Farbauti, while he’d somehow _wished_ for companionship and love, he knew now that what he’d dreamed of was far from the reality of what he’d gained there. 

It was nothing like he could have ever imagined. Nothing like the tall tales of love told between pretty maids singing to sailors, nothing like the retellings from his parent’s own courtship. 

But that hardly mattered. It was _Loki’s_ own story, his and that of his wild and ethereal Ocean Spirit, with his will so fiery he could _see_ it light him up from the inside, calling to Loki’s own affinity to flames. 

Tony was untameable, and _brilliant,_ resourceful and just as powerful as Loki himself, and yet still gentle, and yearning for affection just as much as Loki was. 

Loki would not change him for the Ocean itself. 

It was only the beginning, there would be many things yet to discover about his tiny mate. Many hurdles and surprises, fights, plays and blissful entanglements leading to bright bursts of light from Tony’s bell. There would be small fries to raise and perhaps even more eggs afterwards, there would be affection, companionship and _family._

And, whatever the future brought, Loki knew he would never be alone again. 

He could only look forward to it, and relish in the warm weight of his tiny and brave mate, resting so trustingly in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed yourself and I would love to hear what you thought so feel free to comment below!  
> X3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Sea of Stars -Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25546672) by [Rae_Simmons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Simmons/pseuds/Rae_Simmons)




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